CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE STUDY OF OTHIN

ESPECIALLY IN HIS RELATION TO AGRICULTURAL

PRACTICES IN MODERN POPULAR LORE
BY
JAN DE VRIES

-----------------------------------

HELSINKI, 1931
SUOMALAINEN TIEDEAKATEMIA
SOCIETAS SCIENTIARUM FENNICA

-----------------------------------------------
Haminassa 1931
Haminan Lehil Osskeyhtiön
Kirjapaino

If we wish to establish the real significance of a heathen Teutonic deity and the way in which it has
developed in the course of the ages, we can not restrict ourselves to the study of literary documents,
such as the Icelandic poems of the Edda or the sagas, but we have to look for information from other
sources also. Scholars have been accustomed to draw for this purpose largely on folkloristic sources
such as popular customs and superstitions. This method, indispensable as it may be for the
reconstruction of the early Germanic religion, about which the extant sources have practically nothing
to say, is open to serious objections.
As long as we might consider popular traditions as genuine modern representatives of original heathen
religious practices, we seemed justified in using these folkloristic materials with as much confidence as
the literary traditions of pagan times. They could even yield something more which the latter only gave
by way of exception: some insight into the rites and practices of the heathen religion. A well known
example of this kind is to be found in the study of modern agricultural customs, which threw an
unexpected light both upon the cult of Nerthus, as Tacitus has ascribed it in his Germania, and even
upon the scanty information about the Scandinavian Freyr-cult. The value of folkloristic material,
however, has been seriously weakened in late years, by the ever increasing amount of proofs that a
great deal of popular tradition is nothing but products of higher civilisation, debased to the level of the
common people. So it is quite obvious that a popular tradition, which was once considered as a
valuable remnant of [4] old heathen lore, may be of much later origin, even of quite modern extraction.
Now, of course, we should not be too sceptical. Although a great deal of present-day popular lore may
be of a very problematic origin, it is still possible that ever and anon very interesting specimens of the
highest antiquity may be found among the flotsam and jetsam of historical evolution. Only a careful
study of popular traditions can enable us to make any definite conclusion.
The vestiges of the cult of Othin, in popular traditions, as we find them now-a-days in different parts of
the Scandinavian territory, are a case in point.
1. Modern harvest customs in Scandinavia and Germany

In his interesting book “Wärend och Wirdarne” the Swedish scholar Hyltén-Cavallius has collected a
great many instances of the survival of pagan deities in modern folklore. Among several traditions
about Othin he gives the following important information: Some generations ago (i. e. in the latter half
of the 18th century) the people of Wärend still had the custom of sacrificing something to the horses of
Othin. They usually did it in the following way: people left untouched, when mowing a meadow, a 'few
green blades of grass which were bent down and covered with moss, so as to prevent them from being
damaged by cattle. The peasant said while doing so: “Othin shall have this for his horses” or “This is
for the horses of Othin”. If any one should neglect to make this sacrifice to Othin's horses, he was
supposed to be punished the following year by a bad hay-crop I).
In this custom we find a connection between the religious conceptions of Othin's horses and the rites of
fertility. Before entering upon a discussion of the question as [5] to whether this piece of popular lore
may be considered as a valuable proof for the theory, that Othin was originally a deity of fertility, we
had better ask first: “Can we rely upon the trustworthiness of this Swedish tradition?” We find the same
belief as far as Finland, where it has been taken down from the mouth of the Swedish speaking peasant
Gabriel Raf, a man of about eighty years 2). He also said that it had been the custom in former days to
leave a few blades of grass for Othin. - But the way in which this information was obtained is
significant; the collector asked the man: “Have you ever heard anything about Othin?” Then he
answered: “Certainly, old people sometimes mentioned Othin and when they were mowing the corn,
they used to leave some straws for Othin, but whether it was a human being or an animal I never
asked”. When collectors of folkloristic material put their questions in this way, they may be fairly sure
of gleaning as many notes about old heathen deities as they like. The peasant is often inclined to answer
in the affirmative either simply to show his good will or because he does not like to admit that he does
not know about what his interrogator expects him to have heard 3).
Fortunately we may dismiss all doubts about the reliability of this information. Hyltén-Cavallius
himself gives many instances of Othin's name having been known to Swedish peasants of the 19th
century. Moreover we have the unquestionable testimony of later folklorists, who collected their
material in a thoroughly scientific way. So we possess a much later communication from the same
district, Wärend, about a peasant who said: “This year the rye grows badly, for Othin or his servant has
taken something from every ear” 4).
But the same custom has been noted down in other parts of Sweden also, as e.g. in Blekinge 5) and
Skåne. It is even known in the Danish islands, where the last [6] sheaf of corn is sacrificed to the horses
of Jon Opsal, according to the tradition of Meen 6), while in the islands of Lolland and Falster this is
done to the horses of Goen or to Goen himself 7). So it is beyond all doubt that in a well-confined part
of Scandinavia (i.e. in Southern Sweden 8) and in the Danish islands) this custom has been practiced.
As these parts of Sweden belong to the territory, which was once united with Denmark, we may
surmise that this custom is possibly of Danish origin andthat it has spread to Sweden in the course of
the Middle Ages.
Beyond this region we find the custom of making a sacrifice of the last sheaf as well as the popular
belief about Othin and his horse. But now, they are quite distinct from one another. The corn is not
sacrificed to Othin but to other mythical beings, partly in human, partly in animal shape. Moreover,
even in the districts where the last sheaf is dedicated to Othin's horses, it is also said that the sacrifice is
made to other supernatural beings. So the Swedish peasant leaves to the Gloso or Glosuggan, probably
a vegetation-spirit in the form of a sow, not only three corn-ears or some straws on the field, but even a
few apples on the tree and when he is threshing in the barn, he leaves some grains in the cornbox. The
same custom is found in Norway, but the intention is here only to procure abundant harvest for the
following year 9). Elsewhere the sacrifice is made to the underground-people or to the old man of the
field, the åkergubben 1o).
So the custom to sacrifice the last sheaf to Othin seems to be a peculiar form of a much more common
sacrifice to other mythical beings. It is then possible that from the beginning this practice has nothing to
do with the heathen god Othin. Here, however, a serious objection to this reasoning may arise from
those cases where the last sheaf is sacrificed to a being, whose name if not identical with Othin at least
has a very close resemblance to it. [7] In Northern Germany the peasants left some balms of corn on the
field for a demon, which was called by different names, such as W ô d or W ô l d and with another
vowel W a u l or W a u d l and many forms more II). As early as 1593 a certain Nicolaus Gryse
mentions in his book “Spegel des antichristlichen Pawestdoms vnd Lutherischen Christendorns” 12)
this same custom and quotes even a small rhyme which the peasants sang while dancing round the
corn-sheaf:

Wode, hale dynern Rosse nu Voder,

Nu Distel vnde Dorn,
Thom andren Jhar beter Korn.

In a modern variant from Saxony, in stead of Wode we read Frû Gaue; possibly this is a
misinterpretation of Fra Gaue and whereas frô is an old word for “lord”,' its meaning may be “the Lord
Gode(n);” it is generally assumed that we find the same name in the word Vergôdêndl,' which is the
name for the last sheaf in Lower Germany.
Gryse firmly believes that this Wode is the same as the pagan deity Wodan. The German folklorist U.
Jahn, after discussing a great many similar practices in which the corn-demon has the same name or is
simply called “the Old One”, comes to the conclusion that there can be no doubt whatever about the
identity of the corn-sacrifice to this “Old One” and that to “Wuotan” 13). In course of time the heathen
god has been degraded to a simple spirit (Elementargeist) and he traces the line of development
downwards through several intermediary stages where the last sheaf is not sacrificed to the “Old One”,
but to other mythical beings, such as the Wichtelmann or Feldmann (Thuringia) or even the
Erdmännchen and Erdbiberli (Aargau 14). [8]
In other parts of Germany we meet with the same practices. In Hessia and Schaumburg-Lippe a round
piece of the rye-field was left unmown and had the name of Waulroggen; a stick with flowers set in the
middle of it was called the Waulstab and the labourers shouted thrice: “Waul, waul, waul!" Again in
Bavaria a sheaf of corn was left on the field for the Waudlgaul; beer, milk and bread were sacrificed to
the Waudlhunde. In the 18th century there had been a harvest ceremony, called the Waudismähe. Jahn
15) adduces some sources from the Middle-Ages which confirm this custom: the town of Presburg had
to pay every year a sum of money “an dem newen iare, daz man heyst dy Wud” and the church of
Passau got, according to a charter of the 13th century, a contribution of oats, which was called
“Wutfuter”. Here again it might be argued that this South-German Waudi is identical with the Low-
German Wold or Wôde and hence may be considered also as representing the heathen god Wodan or
Othin.
The harvest customs have been studied in later years with much care, especially by Mannhardt 16), Sir
Frazer 17), Rantasalo 18) and Nils Lid 19). We are able on the ground of these investigations to form a
fairly good idea of these practices, which are to be found in all parts of the world. Everywhere do we
hear of a sacrifice to mythical beings, most commonly of a lower order than the gods and often called
in ethnological treatises by the name of “corn-spirits”. The sacrifice to a demon with a special name is a
higher developed form of a much more primitive custom. When we wish to know the exact relation
between the original notion of the corn-spirit and the later individualised form of Wode or Wodan, we
have to give an answer to the following questions:

What is the original notion of the corn-spirit and along what way does its development go? [9]
 What is the original significance of the mythical being Wôde, Wold, Wauld and what is its relation
to the harvest customs?
Finally, what is the relation between this Wode and the pagan god Wodan-Othin?

2. Original conceptions of the corn-spirit

The harvest customs in which a sacrifice is made to a corn-spirit are of a singularly complicated nature.
The supernatural being, which we may call for convenience sake by the name of the corn-spirit, proves
to be of a very different kind; in fact all sorts of mythical beings may occasionally be considered as
connected with the prosperity of the crops. We have mentioned already the old man of the field and the
people which live beneath the earth (underjordiske, undibyggarna; in Germany the Erdmännchen or the
Wichtelmann); we may add: the spirits of the dead, the e l v e s (in some parts of Denmark Ellekongen
20) and furthermore in several parts of Scandinavia, the domestic spirit or tomten 21). The corn-spirit is
often represented as a female being, known in Germany by very different names such as die gute Frau,
die Braut, das Holzfräulein, die Kornjungfer and many more 22). Finally its animal form is not less
frequent; the usual names are those of the horse, the dog, the pig, the cat, the hare, the fox, the goat, the
bull and the cock.
This variety is already bewildering enough. But besides this the singular fact strikes us, that this
vegetation demon may be considered not only as a benevolent but also as a malignant spirit; supposed
to reside in the last sheaf itself, it is brought to the home of the peasant in order to be made use of for
the crop of the following year, [10] but people try as well to get rid of it by throwing it on to the ground
of a neighbour. So in the island of Langeland 23) the labourers dress up the last sheaf as an old woman
and throw it into the yard of a neighbour who has not yet finished mowing his field; it is considered to
be a great dishonour to become the last owner of this sheaf. The same customs are connected not only
with the cutting of the last corn-stalks but also with the threshing of the last sheaf. Even during Yule-
tide, when the dead ancestors are commemorated, the last sheaf sometimes forms a prominent part of
the ceremonial practices. Here the corn-spirit seems to be confused with the spirits of the dead.
So we get the strong impression, that a great many different observances have been mixed up into a
series of popular customs, the real meaning of which has been lost in the course of ages. Thus it seems
to be rather dangerous to connect one of the particular forms of these practices with an ancient heathen
sacrifice, before we have tried to establish if the present popular custom may be considered as the
direct descendant of a pagan rite.
The practices connected with the last sheaf are not only the result of a long development, but even go
back to a very different origin. Without making any attempt to give them in the order, corresponding
with the possible successive stages of evolution, we may notice the following conceptions.
The sheaf is left on the field, simply because it is the last one of the harvest, It seems to be a very wide
spread custom not to take all the profit one can obtain 24). If the fruits of a tree are gathered, usually
some are left on the branches; the reason for this custom is often quite unknown and it is done because'
people are used to doing it; sometimes they are a kind of sacrifice, so in Sjælland to “nissen” 25), in
Sweden even to Fröa 26). When sheep are sheared some wool remains untouched between the ears;
[11] it is called, “the crown of the sheep” and the meaning is that the force by which the wool will grow
again, can stay here 27). In Finland and Esthland the corn-box may never be emptied wholly; if this
were done, the farm would lose its “cornluck” and gradually become impoverished 28). Likewise the
Cheremiss think it necessary always to leave three unthreshed sheafs on the floor of the barn or else the
guardian spirit would not stay here 29). The same idea lies at the bottom of a curious custom in
Savolax: when drawing water from a well you must pour back some drops in order that the well may
not be killed 30). It is evident from these examples that the part which is left untouched is considered to
contain the very essence of the things people want for their every-day life; the sheaf left on the field,
the grains in the corn-box, contain the vivifying power which the peasant wishes to preserve for the
crops of the following year; necessarily this small portion embodies the totality, the fertilizing force is
here present in a condensed form; we may express it also in this way: this last remnant is loaded with a
high potency of growing power. Ears of corn, showing particular signs of abundant fertility, might be
considered as the special residence of the growing power; hence the numerous practices and
superstitions referring to the so called double fruit, as e.g. corn-stalks with two ears 31).
Of course people still continue these practices without knowing their purpose; the explanations they
themselves try to give of them may be simply guesswork. So in Denmark it is said that there were left
some corn-ears for the poor; elsewhere again for the mice or for the birds. A communication from
Bornholm says that it had formerly been a sacrifice 'to the underground people, but afterwards to the
birds. Likewise in the island of Fyn people did not rake too closely for there must be something left for
the “usynlige”. So a custom, emptied of its original meaning, [12] is maintained in use by 'the
conservatism of the peasantry, who do not like to abolish a practice inherited from their ancestors; the
folklorist can not be too cautious when making use of information of this kind, for such customs are
dead survivals liable to the most arbitrary, combinations.
When people leave a small part of the harvest on the field the reason may be that in this part the
quintessence of the prosperity of the field is supposed to reside. But in this case it is but natural that
man 'wants to” take hold of this blessing power. When the bushel of corn-stalks remains standing on
the field, the birds will very soon have emptied it of its valuable contents; might it not be better to take
the corn stalks' home and lay them up for the following year? So the last sheaf is no longer left on the
stubblefield, but during the winter stored up in the barn.
It is to be noted, that we have no reason to consider this sheaf as the incorporation of a corn-spirit, still
less as a spirit crudely personified (in human or animal form), but simply as the mystical representative
of the impersonal fertilizing power residing in the corn-field. This is clearly shown by the well-known
custom of keeping the sheaf till the following spring and then threshing the grains out of it and mixing
them up with the seed in order to get an abundant crop in the autumn. The idea of the blessing residing
in this sheaf is naively illustrated by a Danish superstition: Efforts were made to cure sick cattle by
giving them a few bushels of hay containing grains of the "fok" or last sheaf.
Besides this belief in an impersonal growing power there exist many others of very different origin.
The corn-spirit often appears in animal form and these animals may belong partly to the domestic
animals (cow, horse, pig, goat) and partly to the wild animals of the wood (wolf, fox, hare). The
customs are moreover exceedingly different and it is a fruitless task to try to reconcile the numerous
contradictory [13] forms and to reduce them to one single original belief. Without entering into details
and repeating the examples well known from the books of Sir Frazer and Mannhardt, I may state the
very important difference between corn-spirits in animal form, which are considered as propitious, and
those which are dangerous and malevolent. The former are brought home with joy and reverence, the
latter thrown away into the neighbour's field or even killed.
The animal-spirit of the corn may be thought obnoxious without taking the corresponding form of a
savage beast. In Lesbos, according to Frazer 32) when the reapers are at work in two neighbouring
fields each party tries to finish first in order to drive the hare into their neighbour's field. On the
contrary in Galloway, the hare is brought home and sometimes even kept till the next harvest.
Moreover in the same district the corn-spirit may take several animal forms 33); are we entitled to
suppose that only one animal belongs to the original customs of a definite region and that the other
coexisting forms have been introduced from elsewhere? Has each kind of crop its own special animal
spirit? Does, for instance, the cock belong to rye, the goat to oats, the hare to flax? This does not seem
very probable as in the same region one single animal may stand for all sorts of plants; in Esthland the
peasants speak as well of the corn-wolf, as of the pea-wolf or the bean-wolf 34).
What is the reason that the corn-spirit in Mecklenburg takes the form of a wolf and of a cock, while in
Sweden it takes even as many forms as those of a goat, a hare, a cat (logkatten) and a pig (gloso)? In
some cases a special animal-form seems to be typical for a distinct geographical area, e.g. the bull in
Prussia and on the other hand in Bavaria and the adjoining parts of Bohemia, Switzerland and France.
But these are questions to which it is as yet impossible to give any definite answer; they de-[14]serve a
minute investigation, taking into account all available information about these customs and confining
itself to a vast territory with a rather homogeneous population.
The idea of an obnoxious animal residing in the cornfield could arise from several observations of
every-day life. In former times, when the corn-fields lay in the immediate vicinity of the uncultivated
woods and deserts —which is still the case in more remote districts — it naturally often happened that
wolves, foxes, hares “and other wild beasts damaged the ripening harvest. When the wind passes over
the corn-field, ploughing long furrows through the stalks, the Dutch peasant still says: “The rye-dog
runs through the field” or “The rye-sow (roggemeuje) has let loose her pigs” 35). When after a hail-
storm the corn is beaten down to the ground, it often gives the 'impression as if a drove of cattle or
other animals had trampled down the stalks.
If the idea had arisen that in the corn-field there was present a spirit which had the power to damage
and to destroy, the form of an obnoxious animal being hidden between the corn-halms lay very near at
hand.
But how came man to imagine that the corn-spirit could be of a hostile nature? The mowing of the field
is the appropriation of a crop which properly speaking belongs to the power which is supposed to
reside in the soil. This spirit necessarily considers the harvesting peasant as a despoiler of its
possessions as it is driven back by the ever advancing sickles into the remotest corner of its territory.
The man, who has to mow the last sheaf is sure to reach the corn-spirit itself, which will now be
compelled to surrender. But it may then be particularly dangerous and very often the man is clearly
supposed to fight and destroy the spirit. In Lorraine it is said of the man who cuts the last corn: “He is
killing the Dog of the Harvest”. [15]
A corn-spirit that has in the end to be killed can not be taken home to secure the crops of the following
year. But what then is man's attitude with regard to the benevolent demon which he wants to get into
his possession? It may be supposed that even this spirit will not surrender so very easily. When the last
sheaf of corn is mowed' down the spirit must be captured and kept by force. Sometimes the labourers
make an effigy of the animal spirit which they catch in a mock-chase and afterwards present to the
farmer. Very interesting is a Dutch custom preserved in the province of Groningen when threshing the
last load of cole-seed. The plants after being cut are collected in a piece of canvas and then brought
together on to a huge canvas-cloth where they are immediately threshed. Now, when the last load is
made ready by the bearers, a boy of about fifteen hastily gathers some grass and flowers from the edge
of the ditch and plaits these into a figure which may be considered as the effigy of a hare. Then he
suddenly jumps on to the canvas where his appearance causes great excitement among the labourers,
who after having taken a dram to raise their courage, lift, with much apparent difficulty, this load and
bring it to the threshing place where the contents are shaken out on to the huge cloth. But it betrays by
its convulsive movements that a living being is hidden in it and indeed presently the boy appears out of
the pile of plants completely covered with the pericarps of the cole-seed and creeps to the feet of the
farmer to whom he gives the bundle of grass representing the cole-seed hare. At once the labourers
begin to thresh as they say, “to beat the hare blood out of it” 36).
This custom is a very clear example of the catching of the vegetation-spirit and it is found elsewhere
also in a slightly different form 37). It takes some trouble to catch, but in the end the peasant comes
into possession of it, thereby securing the prosperity of the next harvest. But at [16] the same time the
spirit is killed and its blood beaten out of it, this being a conception which it is hard to reconcile with
the former one. This seems to me a very instructive example of the co-existence of two contrary
opinions in the mind of the same people, being engaged in the same agricultural act. It would be quite
wrong to imagine that these different conceptions represent the successive 'stages of a rectilinear
development; they are only the result of the different attitudes of man with regard to natural phenomena
that excite his highest interest 38).
The influence of originally quite foreign conceptions may also account for the dual character of the
corn-spirit. The rye-mother that lives in the cornfield is sometimes a very dangerous being by which
children are frightened from going into the field. The German Roggenmuhme, the Danish Rugkjælling,
the Lithuanian Rugiu-boba, the Polish Rzanamatka all have the same bad reputation. This is a curious
instance of such a contamination of different conceptions, for the corn-mother, has been turned into a
malignant spirit by the influence of the “demon meridianus”, which about noon is supposed to wander
through the fields and to cause disease and even death 39). It will be superfluous to add that a popular
belief that considers mythical beings as bogeys is far from being reliable material for the student of
religion.

3. The Corn-Spirit in human shape

In the agricultural practices we have treated hitherto the last sheaf is not to be considered as a sacrifice.
The sheaf is the corn-spirit itself, killed or done away with if it is to be feared, caught and carefully
stored up if it is friendly. But besides these practices there are in modern tradition the survivals of
harvest-customs which suppose [17] quite a different conception of the corn-spirit. It is regarded as a
supernatural being in human shape and it is identified with a real person at the moment of the cutting of
the last sheaf. This person may be the labourer who wields the last stroke of the sickle, or the woman
who binds the last sheaf, a stranger accidentally passing by, or even the landlord himself.
Sir Frazer has made a thorough study of these various forms, to which I refer the reader who wants to
enter into the details 40); here he has given examples of the different ways in which this person may be
treated: he may be killed as a representative of the corn-spirit or as a sacrifice to it; he may be dressed
as if he were the corn-spirit itself and brought home with much fun and frolic. He may even be
supposed to be married to the corn-spirit and these customs, though in modern times debased to an
almost meaningless mockery, may be a late remembrance of religious rites of a sacred marriage by
which a successor to the decrepit vegetation-spirit will be engendered.
In several parts of Germany where similar practices are still to be found, the corn-spirit is accordingly
called the Old Man or the Old Woman 41). The Danish material which Mr. Ellekilde has kindly placed
at my disposal, furnishes a series of very interesting examples. A communication from Hjörring district
in Jutland tells that the people make for the last cartload of corn a balm figure in the likeness of a man;
the girl that has bound the last sheaf is obliged to dance with the “stodder”, who is called her husband.
In the neighbourhood of Viborg this girl is likewise married to “the Old One”; she weeps bitter tears on
account of this shameful misfortune. The same custom prevails in other parts of Jutland also (districts
of Aarhus and Vejle). Sometimes the unfortunate girl is called a “widow”; this name reveals to us the
real meaning of this custom; the girl who was to be married to the corn-spirit, was for-[17]merly killed,
this being the only way to achieve the union with this non-human spirit.
An attenuated form was the prohibition to marry in the future any mortal man; she was tabooed by
virtue of her spiritual relation to the corn-demon and consequently treated as a widow. In later days
people did not understand this name and then arose the queer notion that the unlucky girl should be
condemned to get a widower as her future husband, or if it was a man who had cut the last corn-sheaf
to marry a widow. This is a very common belief in Jutland; but the original meaning of it is revealed by
the conception, that she will never marry; in the province of Ringkjøbing this is expressed by the
following pretty lines:

Pigen som binder den sidste neg

skal lægges som jomfru paa baaren bleg
or:
Den der snører den sidste neg
naar aldrig at dele med brudgommen steg.
Less cruel is the popular belief in Aarhus amt and elsewhere: she will not marry before the end of the
next year, while information from Tisted amt has turned it into its opposite: the girl will become a wife
before the year is out. Finally there are a couple of diverging communications which again point to the
original belief: the girl will die in the course of the year (Aarhus amt), or she will get a child in the
same lapse of time (Ringkjobing amt).
These various superstitions show the gradual debasement of a belief which was once filled with sense
and religious feeling. Only by means of a comparative study can we glimpse the original meaning of it;
as we find it now-a-days it has become obscured by misinterpretation or defective recollection, it has
even been transposed into its contrary. We easily understand that popular traditions, [19] worn out in
this way, lose their hold on the mind of the people; they are liable to every modification which fancy
may suggest and so they become in course of time destitute of all clear meaning 42).
The student of these popular customs can not be too careful in using this material, for it may be
compared with the lifeless body of the popular tale, into which a cunning magician can introduce
whatever soul he likes. Another danger lies moreover in the well known fact, that the notions of
popular belief generally show a very vague and hazy character. The ideas of primitive man have this in
common with those of the lower classes of modern society, that they are constantly shifting in form and
content, according to the circumstances; so it is often very difficult to say which is the original
character of a supernatural being that manifests itself at one and the same time in very different forms,
e. g. as a protecting spirit of the house (hustomt), but also as a chthonic being (underbyggarna), as a
spirit of mountain, water, wood or field, as a dead ancestor, a dwarf or an elf 43). So not only a
historical development, which confounded conceptions of quite different origin, may account for the
bewildering complexity of popular belief, but even the vague nature of popular conceptions
themselves.

4. The Corn-spirit and the spirits of the dead

These considerations of a more general order will, as I hope, not be considered out of place; they will
prove useful when we now again continue our survey of the different forms which the corn-spirit may
invest. In the mind of primitive man there is a close connection between the fertility of the soil and the
spirits of the dead ancestors that reside in the family ground. These are the real possessors of the field
and consequently of all that is grown [20] upon it; they may be called in a rather summary way “the
underground people", as we already have had the opportunity to observe in Scandinavian tradition; they
may be represented as well by one single ancestor, who is regarded as the most distinguished of all, the
founder of the family who first took possession of the soil and who remains the very owner of the
family-property. He may be called “the Old One” or “the Grandfather” 44).
Of course this mythical forefather is supposed to be kind and helpful ; if the new crop is the result of
his tender care for the family, he intends to give it up to its living members. But he may expect a token
of gratitude, a sacrifice intended to recall and reward his beneficial activity. The bundle of corn-balms
left on the field might accordingly be considered as such an offering to the guardian-spirit of the soil. It
has been a custom, known in Germany as well as in Finland 45), to sacrifice a part of the harvest when
bringing it into the barn to the mice with the intention of keeping them from eating the grain. But a
sacrifice to the dead has been practised too and sometimes it seems that the offering to the mice has a
close relation with an original sacrifice to the dead. Among the Swedes in Finland the following
information has been noted down: at the door of the barn the peasant throws some grains of corn across
the left shoulder — a very characteristic act for entering into relation with the world of the dead 46).
The influence of the cult of the dead ancestors upon the original agricultural rites has had very
interesting consequences. The last sheaf which was not originally a sacrifice at all 47), was now
considered to be such an offering. If at the same, time there existed the conception of a corn-spirit
embodied in the last sheaf and of the last sheaf as a sacrifice to a supernatural power the result must
inevitably have been that there arose the new idea of its being an offering to the corn-spirit itself. This
seems to [21] be the case when in Sweden the last blades of grass are left on the field not for the horses
of Othin but for the gloson; now-a-days people even do not know to which power they make the
sacrifice, which nevertheless is still strictly observed 48).
At Yule-tide the dead ancestors are commemorated by different sacrifices; Yule is especially a feast of
the dead. But very often the last sheaf plays a prominent part in it; in Sweden a corn-sheaf, often called
“the old man of Yule” (Julgubben) is brought into the room and even twisted together so as to form the
effigy of a man or a woman, elsewhere of a goat, a cock or other animal The close connection with the
last sheaf brought to the farm in harvest time and these straw figures of the Yule festival is sometimes
expressly stated: Celander who has given many examples of these remarkable customs 50), has been
led to the conviction that in many respects the Yule feast had an agrarian significance.
It must be granted that the last sheaf plays a prominent part on several occasions of the Yule festival: in
the Scandinavian countries the floor was strewn with a thick layer of straw and a communication from
Uppland adds that it was customary to use the first sheaf which had been threshed. Now the first sheaf
to be threshed is of course the last sheaf which has been brought into the barn at the harvest. In this
case this particular sheaf was possibly chosen as the bearer of the fertility power as Celander suggests
51). In connection with the custom, which forms the subject of this paper, it is interesting to be
reminded of the practice, which is found in a part of Skâne, of setling down a Yule sheaf for Noens
horse 52).
There is still another curious instance to be mentioned. The Yule festal dish was a pig fattened during
the autumn with special care. The bones were kept till the following spring and then together with the
seed scattered on the [22] corn-field. The intention was to get an abundant crop. This was a custom in
the Swedish province of Småland. Now in the Norwegian district of Setesdal the Yule goat was fattened
by giving to it the goat-figure made of the last sheaf. By combining this information Celander ventures
to draw the conclusion that here may have been originally a series of practices having the purpose of
establishing a circulation of fertility-essence; the last sheaf contains the growing power of the harvest,
by giving it to the goat it enters this animal, by mixing its bones with the seed it is. again restored to the
soil.
This is of course a purely hypothetical construction which Von Sydow has rightly judged unacceptable
53). It seems to me open to serious objection to combine a Norwegian and a Swedish custom which
may be only local developments. Moreover the particular practice of Setesdal appears to be the result
of the rather curious fact that the same animal that is eaten at the Yule feast is represented by the last
sheaf. Still the fact, that the same custom is found in other parts of Norway as, well, makes it probable
that it belongs to the long series of practices by which the corn-spirit is killed in full vigour in order to
prevent it from becoming weaker and losing its magical forces during the winter-time 54). But these
coincidences, however accidental and fortuitous, are still a remarkable proof for the constant
interrelation between the practices at Yule-tide and the fertility rites.
It has often been observed that the different customs of the Yule festival show the double character of a
commemoration of the dead and a fertility ceremony 55). On the other hand when discussing agrarian
rites relating to the harvest it must be borne in mind that the cult of the dead has exerted a strong
influence upon them. The present form of popular rites and practices is always the result of a long
development during which several influences have [23] been continually intermingling. So the same
custom may have very different meanings 56). When people during Yule set aside food and drink for
the supernatural powers, the idea of a sacrifice is obvious; still it makes a great difference whether it is
given to the dead ancestors, to the “underbyggarna” or to the house spirit (hustomten), although even
these mythical beings have many points in common. When the floor is thickly covered with fresh straw,
this may be a way of adorning the room; at the same time it serves as a resting place for the family, the
bedsteads being left to the spirits of the dead, who will be present during the Yule-nights. Finally if for
this straw the last sheaf is to be used the custom conveys still another idea: that of bringing the fertility
power into the farm. If a custom that is practised now-a-days has still any significance, then it may be
connected with very different conceptions in the minds of different people; it may even have several
meanings at the same time in the mind of the same person 57).
In Northern countries the corn-harvest is also the beginning of the winter, which holds sway during an
interminable series of months. The field lies hidden under a thick covering of snow waiting for the
coming of the new spring. The days of the winter-solstice are a period of utter darkness, but at the same
time a turning-point of high importance. The forces of fertility will from this day onwards slowly
awaken to new life and the thoughts of the peasant are constantly turning towards the crop of the
coming year. Here is a meeting-point between the waning growing-power of the former year and the
waxing one of the following. Now, by any small inadvertency, this essence of fertility, being in the
weakest possible condition, may be lost altogether. Hence it is necessary to secure its continuation and
it is only natural that the last sheaf, containing this very 'fertilizing power, plays a prominent part in the
ceremonial festivals of this time. [24]
But in these days the dead forefathers are commemorated. The reason of their being honoured
especially at Yule-tide is not sufficiently clear; the influence of the Christian church may have caused
considerable changes in the original state of things. At any rate, autumn seems to be very appropriate
for a sacrifice to the dead. All kinds of spirits are then freely moving through the upper-world 57); the
darkness and the storms are peopled with a host of mythical beings by the terrified imagination of man.
Feasts of the dead and rites of fertility took place in the same months, occasionally even during the
same weeks. A mutual influence was inevitable. As soon as the power of fertility had been developed
into a personal being and on the other hand the dead ancestors were considered to be responsible for the
fertility of the soil, it would be quite impossible to make any clear distinction between the two
categories of mythical beings. The gradual change of the impersonal growing essence into a definite
animal or human shape seems to me mainly due to the influence exerted by the conception of the
relation between the dead ancestors and the fertility of the soil.
So in a general way we may be convinced of a constant interrelation between both series of religious
practices and representations. Are there, moreover, any special motives to account for their being so
inextricably commingled?

5. The Wild Hunt and Othin

The animal forms of the vegetation spirit are in many respects the same as those of the souls of the
dead. So the dog, the horse, the hare, the pig are likewise known as belonging to the realm of death as
well as to the mysterious powers of fertility. It is difficult to decide in which [25] connection each
animal has originated. The pig, as the animal of astonishing fecundity seems exceedingly appropriate
for the theriomorphic representation of the fertility spirit; on the other hand it may easily be brought
into close connection with the inhabitants of the underworld because it likes to root in the ground with
its snout. Why should it not be possible that it has been applied to two different religious conceptions
from the very beginning?
Of course it must be borne in mind that the intimate relations between the religious representations of
the powers of fertility and the spirits of the dead belong to the very essence of these notions. But they
are so very complicated that they have, each separately, their domain as well. The idea of the last sheaf
as the residence of the growing power of the corn-field has nothing to do with spirits of the dead; so the
Wild Hunt has no connection whatever with agricultural practices. Still during the long ages of
development even in such originally widely separated domains, mutual influences have been at work
and these influences were not only the result of similitudes in the religious attitude towards the powers
of death and of fertility, but even of fortuitous and superficial points of contact.
The ideas of the Wild Hunt are a case in point. In large parts of the Germanic world we meet with the
belief in a ferocious spirit riding about during the stormy nights of autumn and winter. In the southern
parts of Germany, as well as on the borders of the Lower Rhine and in Thuringia people believe that a
host of raging spirits (das Wütende Heer) is sweeping along in the gales; these spirits are commonly
considered to be damned souls, who must restlessly wander till the Day of Judgment. But we find also
another conception: a spectral huntsman is careering along on his horse, pursuing a naked female
whom he finally catches and throws in front of him across the back of his steed. This is the popular
belief in the-plains [26] of Northern Germany and in the Scandinavian countries, but it is deeply rooted
also in England and in Northern France 58).
A treatment of this belief in its details lies beyond the scope of this paper; moreover we have an
excellent monograph on the subject by Axel Olrik in Dania. VIII entitled “Odinsjægeren i Jylland”. In
contiguous and even partly overlapping regions of the Scandinavian territory where the custom of
sacrificing the last sheaf or bundle of grass 'to the horse of Othin is known, the Wild Huntsman is
identified with the same god. And we are justified in concluding that in both cases the name of Othin
has been introduced into a mythical conception which originally perhaps had nothing to do with this
heathen deity. Still it seems natural that Othin was not brought into connection with these spheres of
religious belief quite independently; it is more likely that he has first been adopted in one of them and
afterwards transferred to the other.
Which of them has to be considered as the first stage of this development, does not seem difficult to
say. The close connection of Othin and his horse makes it clear that it is as Lord of the Dead he started
on this new career. This is too the opinion of Olrik, who says on p. 162 of the above mentioned paper,
that the transition of the Wild Huntsman to a deity, a supernatural being of a friendly character, is very
abrupt and fanciful, neither is it the logical result of the original animistic belief, nor does it belong to
the same development as the local traditions. The Wild Huntsman shows the tendency to grow into a
god of the cattle, a god of the corn or a god of the homestead 59).
There is then, besides the problem of the relation between Othin and modern agricultural practices, still
another question: the connection between the leader of the Wild Hunt in popular belief and the heathen
divinity. It is again Axel Olrik who has formulated this problem with his [27] usual acumen. The Wild
Huntsman is named Othin only in a very limited territory, especially in Southern Sweden and the
Juttish peninsula; we may perhaps add Westphalia, where we find the names as Woenjäger, Hodenjäger
and Bodenjäger, furthermore the coast of the North Sea, where he is called Woiinjäger, and Holstein
with the name of the Wohljäger. But besides these regions we find him called simply the Wild
Huntsman, “Der Wilde Jäger”. Have we to consider these last regions as having forgotten his original
divine name, or must we suppose on the other hand that we find here the primitive conception of a
nameless spirit which has afterwards developed into a personal god and has been confounded with
Otbin?
Olrik does not venture to come to a conclusion before entering upon a more elaborate investigation of
the various forms of this popular belief; still it seems necessary to me to make at any rate some
observations of a more theoretical character and to come to a provisional conclusion, although the
attempt is not likely to yield an entirely satisfactory result.
The choice must be made not between two, but between three possibilities: for we have not only a Wild
Huntsman with no name whatever and a god Othin, but we have also this same mythical being with a
name that, although bearing some resemblance with that of the pagan deity, still shows signs of a more
original form and of a higher antiquity. Just as the last sheaf is sacrificed not only to the horse of Othin,
but also to a demon Wode, Wold, Waul, so the Wild Huntsman is called in one region Un or Wåjen, in
another Woejäger, or Wohljäger. I do not agree with Olrik that these latter names should be explained
as later modifications of an original name Wodan. At any rate we have to consider the striking fact that
the corn-spirit too has the same shorter names which may be after all a more original form than the
divine name Wodan 60). [28]
It is indeed hard to say of how many different religious conceptions the present popular superstitions
about the Wild Hunt are the result. When we say that during the storms of winter the damned souls are
racing along through the sky, we give by such a sentence the result of a historical development in
which at least three different layers may be distinguished.
The most primitive is the effect of natural phenomena upon human mind; the roaring and whistling of a
furious storm, dashing through the trees of the forest or sweeping across the farm-yard, makes man
shudder with the impression of frightful supernatural forces. The weird cries of birds of passage flying
through the sky in the dark of the night can make a deep impression upon the imagination. The Danish
folklorist Feilberg has had the following experience in the neighbourhood of Odense 61): as he once
came home in the evening, he heard just at the moment of opening the house-door, a buzzing noise far
away but rapidly approaching. Presently the barking and howling of dogs was heard and when it was
right over him it seemed as if all the dogs of Odense were engaged in a most desperate fight. Feilberg,
however, was a clear-minded young man; he at once remembered the traditions of the Wild Hunter who
sweeps along with his dogs through the sky and the next day he asked his teacher what kind of
migratory birds he might have heard 62). Primitive man, naturally, was only struck with awe by such a
strange phenomenon.
The idea of spirits moving invisibly through the sky lay near at hand as an explanation of such
terrifying cries and noises; at all events they could not be explained otherwise than as a manifestation
of living beings. These spirits may have been considered simply as the representations of natural
phenomena such as the stormwind, the roaring forest, in a human form, or else as mortal souls freed
from the [29] body by death. The fact that the furious storms are much more frequent in autumn and
winter and that the long dark winter nights are especially favourable for such conceptions coming into
being, and that the birds of passage are going southwards during this part of the year, may account for
the belief that the spirits of the dead are hovering about at this same time and are then particularly
dangerous.
Modern superstition regards them as damned souls; here we meet the third, the Christian layer.
According to Christian belief these souls obviously have this dreadful fate as a punishment for actions
by which they transgressed the divine laws 63). But the germ of this conception certainly lies already in
heathen times, when the dead ancestors were supposed to reside in the burial mound of the family,
while those, feared by man for their cruelty, their witchcraft or other uncommon mental qualities, might
leave their graves to worry the living. Especially those who had fallen in battle and whose corpses were
left to the wolf and the raven, could find no rest after death; they formed an army of spirits
continuously fighting on with the fury of their supreme battle. The Old Norse traditions about the battle
of the Hjaðningar as well as the religious conceptions of the einherjar, are offsprings of this same root.
But the South Scandinavian tradition does not know the conception of a raging host of spirits (das
wütende Heer), but of a Wild Huntsman. So here the idea of Othin as the lord of the warriors fallen in
battle probably does not lie at the bottom of this superstition. The Wild Huntsman is not necessarily a
lonely wanderer through the darkness for he may be followed by a train of other huntsmen, just like
any real hunting-party; and so both notions are imperceptably flowing into each other. The
Aasgaardsrei or in a more phonetic form, the Oskorei, of Norwegian folklore seems to me more like a
spiritual host than a Wild Hunt. But in Danish tradition the idea of a [30] solitary huntsman prevails,
pursuing the female spirits of the forest. And it is as “Odinsjægeren” that he constantly appears to the
Juttish peasants. The ties that bind this figure of lower mythology with the heathen god Othin, seem to
me rather weak.

6. The meaning of the word Wöd

Besides the name of Othin which lingered on in popular tradition we find a shorter form Wöde or Wöd.
If we reject the opinion that it is only a defective form of Wödan, worn out during so many ages, we
are necessarily driven to the conclusion that Wöde is the more original, Wödan the more developed
form. A bit of etymology may elucidate the real character of the relation between these two words.
In great parts of Germany people speak of “Das wütende Heer". The leader of this host of spirits must
be inspired especially by this fury or “Wut”. He is the furious one in the most absolute sense. The
connection between this “Wut” and the racial element of the name Wöde and Wödan is of great
importance and to determine it we must study the exact meaning of these words.
The proper meaning of the word Wut is, as far as the extant documents are concerned, exclusively that
of a high mental excitement. The Gothic translation of the Gospel uses the word woþs in the story of
the possessed man cured by Jesus (St. Mark. V, 15 and 18); here it renders the Greek words
daimonizomenos and daimonistheis. The Old German translation of Tatian has for the Latin words:
demonium habet et insanit the translation “er habet diuual inti vvuotit” 64). Mental derangement is the
common idea this word conveys. Isidor renders the sentence Quod ita existimare magnae dementiae est
with “dhazs so zi chilaubanne mihhil uuootnissa [31] ist.” As a translation of freneticus, furiosus,
lyphaticus 65) it does not mean a violent movement, a rushing onward in blind fury, but the being
possessed by a spiritual force, being in the state of a daimonios.
The Old Norse language has three different words óðr: n. a noun meaning “intellect” or “poetic
genius”, 2. an adjective “raging, furious, terrible”, 3. a proper name Óðr as the name of a god. The
adjective is used in many cases, where the meaning is only “furious, in a highly excited movement”, as
when the storm, the sea or the fire are called óðr. The adverb ótt often means simply “quick, swift”. In
str. 43 of Atlakviða we read the words: óvarr hafðe Atle óðan sik drukkit; óðr is here the mental state of
drunkenness, which, however, according to the heathen conceptions, in many cases does not simply
mean a kind of bewilderment, but the being possessed by a divine force. The noun óðr clearly has the
same meaning. Its use as a word for the poetic genius is very significant; this is always considered as
the result of the spiritual force entering the human mind 66). In the myth of man's creation, as it is told
in the Völuspá, we read: önd gaf Óðenn, óð gaf Hœnir (St. 18); usually rendered as “Othin gave breath,
Hœnir intellect” and this is certainly substantially correct. But óðr is not the sedate use of one's mental
qualities as distinguishing it from animal 67); it is a god who inspired the first man and accordingly it is
the same divine spirit,, that manifests itself most perfectly in a state of high excitement 68). For the
poet of the Völuspa the gift of this god is not common sense but the ecstatic state of mind when by the
inspiration of a god, man sees visions, creates poetry and grasps new ideas.

7. Óðr and Óðinn

The third meaning of the Old Norse óðr is the name a god. Here we are placed before a double
problem: [32] what is the relation between this Óðr and the Wöde of popular lore, what between Óðr
and Óðinn? The question is a difficult one, because the original meaning of Óðr does not become clear
from extant literary tradition. In the Snorra Edda (c. .34) it is told that Freyja was married to Óðr and
that their daughter was Hnoss (= jewel). But Óðr went away on a far journey and Freyja wept golden
tears. Under many different names she travelled from people to people in search of her husband who
had disappeared. This myth is alluded to in a skaldic verse of about 1020, Skuli þorsteinsson using the
kenning Freyju tör for gold 69). And more than a century later Einarr Skulason calls gold augna regn
Óðs bevinu 70). If Snorri's myth of the wandering Óðr is more than a mere conclusion from this
kenning of Einarr Skulason which he quotes in his chapter on the kenningar for gold 71), then it has a
very singular resemblance with a myth of Othin who too is said to have been absent from his home for
a long time. But his wife Frigg was not faithful to him, according to the account in the Ynglingasaga
and in the first book of Saxo Grammaticus.
If the only myth which is told of Óðr is found also among the many traditions about Othin, then we
may ask if the relation between Óðr and Freyja is not of the same nature as that between Othin and
Frigg. Now these female deities are difficult to distinguish from one another; both names, alliterating
with each other, are appellatives, one meaning “the mistress”, the other “the beloved one”. Frigg is
known all over the Teutonic world, as is proved already by the name of the Friday; Freyja however is
particularly Scandinavian and the name is obviously formed after the example of Freyr; most scholars
hold her to be the same deity as the Nerthus about whom Tacitus speaks in his Germania.
The scanty information we possess admits of many explanations, because if Freyja is a later form of
Nerthus, [33] she is also an offshoot of Frigg. The occidental Germanic tribes in the first centuries of
our era knew both Frigg (here called Frija) and Nerthus (or at least a goddess corresponding with this
deity); may we conclude that they are originally the same goddess? As Friday is a translation of dies
Veneris, we may assume that the divinity whose name has the meaning “the beloved one” was a
goddess of love.
More than ten centuries later the poet of the Lokasenna says of her: þú hefir vergiörn verit. But this
conception is not incompatible with the character of Nerthus who as a goddess of the fertilizing powers
in the earth might be considered as giving fertility to mankind also. As a chthonic force she was
considered with awe and might be called Freyja, just as Persephone had the name Despoina. And Frija
or Frigg might be a kind of noa-name used to avert the danger which the invocation of this terrible
goddess might produce. The connection of the goddess Frija of the continental Germans with the
fertility of the soil and the agricultural rites seems moreover to be proved by the fact that Friday is still
considered to he a propitious day for the sowing 72).

8. Some observations on the names of Othin and of other Scandinavian deities

It seems to me that we are entitled to consider Óðr and Óðinn as two different forms of the same divine
power. As Óðr can only be glimpsed very vaguely in the background of the heathen pantheon and as
Othin on the contrary is seen in his full vigour and glory, it is obvious that the latter deity is a later and
more developed specimen of the former. Even the name points in this same direction; compared with
the short form Óðr, the name Óðinn is a derivative. [34]
Nouns in -ina, -ana are rather rare in the Germanic languages; they belong to an early stratum of
derivations and are used to denote persons of high rank or condition.
The Gothic word þiudans is the same as O. E. ðeoden, O. N. þjóðann and means “the king, as the
chief of the þiuda or the people”. O. E. dryhten, O. N. dróttinn is “the leader of the host, the comitatus".
Gothic kindins used to translate “hègemon” originally denotes the chief of the *kind or clan (cf. Latin
gens). To the same group of words belong the Burgundian title hendinos for the king and the word
thunginus in the Lex Salica, meaning “centenarius”. As these words occur in all three groups of the
Teutonic languages we may surmise that they are of the highest antiquity; the formation with this suffix
itself reaches back into the Indo-European period as is proved by such words as Skr. karana, janana, Gr.
koiranos and Lat. dominus, tribunus, patronus 73).
The name Óðbinn, Wuotan, in its Old Germanic form * Woþanaz denotes this divine power as a being
in anthropomorphic form, moreover as a manlike being of high rank and power. The shorter word Óðr,
Wod(e) does not convey this same meaning; its older form *Woþuz, which is found in the proper name
Woþuriþe on the runic stone of Tune, shows its derivation by means of the Indo-European suffix -tu,
which usually forms abstract nouns made from verbal roots, in some instances however also nomina
agentis, such as Gothic hliftus “thief” belonging to hlifan “to steal” or Old Norse smiðr from the verbal
root *smi-, *smi- 74). So etymological evidence makes it possible that the name Óðr means “the fury”
as well as “the furious one”.
The Old Norse pantheon has more instances of gods with names in -ina, —ana 75). So Óðinn is called
þjóðann as the supreme chief of the people (or perhaps as the king of the gods) or Herjan which is
related to the [35] Gothic word harjis and accordingly has the meaning of “the leader of the host”. The
comparison with the Gr. koiranos makes the formation of this word particularly clear. Perhaps we may
add the name Leudanus, used as a surname of Mercury on a Latin inscription (CIL XIII 7859) as it has
been suggested by Marstrander 76), who connects this word with O. N. lýðr, 0. H. G. liut “people''.
The female form of this suffix would be -ano, which we find in the names of some female deities
mentioned by classical authors, such as Tanfana and Hludana (with a latinized ending -ana for original -
ano). These names, however, are despairingly obscure. Marstrander tries to explain the former as a
mistake for *tafnana, which might be brought into connection with Old Teutonic *tafna-'“sacrificial
animal, sacrifice” (cf. O. N. tafn). No more satisfactory is the explanation of Hludana which may be
derived from a Germanic *hluþa, “of unknown origin”, as Marstrander avows. So he does not venture
to connect it with the word *hluþa, *hluða to be found in proper names such as Chlotharius,
Chiodavichus, as has been done already by Müllcnhoff 77), nor does he accept an identification with
the Old Norse Hlóðyn as has been proposed by several scholars 78), although the forms of the two
words do not fully agree.
Of more importance are the following names of Old Norse tradition. The study of place names, which
is carried to a high perfection by Magnus Olsen 79), has led to the result that people used divine names
which do not occur in our literary sources and formed in the same way with the suffix -inn. Magnus
Olsen has discovered the otherwise unknown divinities Fillinn and Ullinn. Fillinn is the protector of the
field and the word goes back to an older form *Felþanaz. Ullinn, according to the evidence given by
the place names, stands in close connection with this god of the cultivated earth ; it corresponds with
the [36] name, well known from Eddic mythology, Ullr, developed from an original form *Wulþuz.
Here we have the same relation between the names Ullr and Ullinn, as between Óðr and Óðinn, the
shorter forms are Ullr and Óðr, both stems in -þu; the longer ones are Ullinn and Óðinn, both derived
by means of the suffix -ana 8o). The name Ullr corresponds with the Gothic wulþus, an abstract noun
meaning “glory, magnificence", and it is often explained as “god of the brilliant heaven” 81); so it may
have had as its original meaning “a divine person, whose activity consists in cosmical brilliancy”.
Finally the same word-formation is found in the name Nerthus which Tacitus in his Germania mentions
as a female deity of fertility. Nerthus, the Old Norse Njörðr, is consequently derived from a root *ner-
which may have had the meaning “force, vigour", 82). If the formation with the suffix -þu has in this
case the same meaning as in Óðr and Ullr, then Nerthus might be “the divinity who gives this fertilizing
power”. If we take into account that this root ner- is used as a word for “man” (Skr. nara, Gr. anèr), then
it seems probable that the original meaning was “virile power, especially in the sense of procreative
power”. We find quite the same idea in the Latin word Nerio Martis which means “the virile force of
Mars” and as this god originally was a deity of fertility, this nerio may distinquish him not as the
valiant warrior, but as the god of procreation.
The Scandinavian peoples venerated a male god Njörðr, which is according to the soundlaws the same
word as Nerthus and it agrees quite well with the original significance of the root *ner- that he was a
god, not a goddess. Usually scholars consider him to be a later form of the female divinity mentioned
by Tacitus, the reason of the changing of sex being the fact, that stems in -u most commonly had a
masculine gender 83). I think it altogether [37] improbable that a deity should have changed its sex
only because the form of the word could favour such a change and I am inclined, on the contrary, to
suppose, that this deity Njörðr has been from the very outset a male god; what must be explained is not
the male gender of Njörðr but the female sex of Nerthus.

It seems to me quite possible that Tacitus has misunderstood the exact meaning of the rite he heard
something about and which he himself never saw practised. He identifies this goddess with Terra Mater
and indeed the cult with the cart drawn by cows and the bathing of the divine image in a river or a lake
is the same for both the Roman and the German goddess. The conformity may indeed have been strong;
still it is possible that Tacitus has lent some details from the Roman cult to the German one. Then
Nerthus may have been a male deity whose cult was celebrated by solemnities of which a female
divinity had her share too; if this goddess was the Earth, then a name as f. i. *Erþö could very easily
have been confused with the name *Neru- of her male counterpart, who in consequence was considered
as a female divinity by the informants of Tacitus 84).
But I will not insist upon this side of the problem. For my purpose it is enough to point out the
existence of a god Nerthus or Njörðr whose name is formed in quite the same way as Óðr and Ullr. If
there had existed a longer name of this god, just as Óðinn corresponds to Óðr and Ullinn to Ulir, then
we might expect a word *Nerþanaz which would have been in Old Norse * Nirðinn. This name,
however, is unknown; but there is the name of a female deity which seems to belong to this same group
of words. The skalds use in the kennings for “woman” sometimes the name Njörun which presupposes
an older form *Neranö, a form related to the root * ner- (or even neru-) in the same way as the
masculine word Ullinn to [38] *wulþu-. Then Njorun is derived from the originally shorter form *neru-
and it is quite probable that it is a name for the earthgoddess; we may even add: here we possibly have
the Scandinavian form of the goddess that Tacitus compared with the Terra Mater 85).
I wish to leave this dangerous province of mythological etymology and return to a more solid basis.
The importance of the names Óðr, Ullr and Njorðr with regard to their form seems to me not fully
appreciated by scholars of Teutonic mythology. The correspondence between them in having the same
suffix -tu can not be fortuitous; on the contrary it is a strong proof in favour of the opinion that these
three divine names belong together and that the divinities, who bear these names, were of the same
kind in their relation to man. It is here not the place to discuss, the startling fact, that these divinities
have names of such an abstract character; it will now be sufficient to consider the formation with the
suffix –þu and the interrelation between the names Oðr, Ullr and Njörðr as a proof of the high antiquity
of the figure of Oðr and as the formation of Oðinn belongs to a period which lies before the historical
times as well, I see no reason why this god should have been a later development in the Old Norse
religious system.

9. The myth of the temporal disappearance of Othin

After this rather long but indispensable digression I wish to return to the subject of this paper: the
relation between the Wodan-like deity of popular lore and the heathen god. We have found the belief in
a demoniac leader of the Wild Hunt who in the Western part of Denmark is usually called by the name
of Othin and on the other hand we have met with a demon of fertility, to whom offerings were made at
harvest-time and who is named [39] after Othin in the Eastern part of Denmark and in the Southern
districts of Sweden. So we have to distinguish between two different conceptions of the god Othin in
popular tradition: between a god of the dead and a god of fertility. Of course we might solve this
question in a very easy way by referring to the well established fact that a god of the underworld in
many religions is at the same time connected with the fertilizing powers of the soil; we might even
consider the horse, to whom the Swedish peasant sacrifices the last sheaf, as a typical form of the
infernal spirits 86), but it seems to me that this is not the right way to arrive at a clear understanding of
the original belief. We want to know why in one part of Scandinavia Othin has been especially a god of
the restless dead and in another part a god of fertility. So we are obliged to enter again upon a
discussion of the original character of the old Teutonic god Wodan.
The discussion of the names Óðr and Óðinn has led us to the conclusion that both words are used for
the same divine power although at different stages of its religious development, Óðr being certainly the
older form. The identity of these divinities was furthermore proved by their relation to a curious myth
according to which they had disappeared for a certain period. Gustav Neckel has said in his interesting
book on Balder that the prototype of the weeping Frigg is the moaning Ishtar; although I can not accept
Neckels view of the character of the resemblance between the Scandinavian and the Babylonian
goddesses, I fully agree with him as to the fact that we have in both cases before us the same religious
phenomenon. According to the Völuspá, Frigg weeps about the death of her son Balder and this is a
myth which may be compared with those of Ishtar and Tamuz, Isis and Osiris, Aphrodite and Adonis,
Cybele and Attis; it belongs to the wide-spread rites of vegetation-divinities. To these same notions we
may [40] reckon the myth of the weeping Frigg in search of her beloved Óðr; consequently Óðr is at all
events according to the meaning of this myth a god of fertility who represents the vegetation which
during winter disappears from earth 87).
A similar story is told about Othin. He too disappeared for some time; the reason of his going away is
however not sufficiently clear. The Ynglingasaga c. 3 says that he was in the habitude of travelling
about and once having been from home during a very long period, his brothers appropriated his goods
and at the same time his wife Frigg. When Othin returned he entered again into the possession of both.
This tale is extremely vague: Snorri himself seems not to have understood the meaning of it.
In the Danish history of Saxo Grammaticus the myth of Othin's disappearance is told twice; in the first
book of the Gesta Danorum, Othinus goes away because his wife Frigga has been unfaithful and
another divinity, called Mithotyn, takes his place. The other story is much more interesting, because it
is connected with the death of Balder and Othin's wooing of Rinda to beget an avenger for him. Then
Saxo continues in his third book the story of Othinus with his expulsion by the gods, on account of his
infamous conduct. The god Ollerus was put in his place and reigned during a period of ten years,
bearing however also the name of Othinus; but then he was in his turn driven away by the right Othinus
and forced to take refuge in Sweden where be was soon afterwards killed by the Danes.
Without being aware of it, Saxo has inserted in his history two variants of the same myth, the meaning
of which obviously is the disappearing of the vegetation in winter and its reappearing in spring.
The figure of Othin is divided into two different divinities: an aestival god who freely reigns in heaven
and a [41] winter-Othin who comes in stead of the former one. Saxo says in his second story that the
substitute god, although being in fact Ollerus, was also called Othinus. So in reality he was Ollerus, the
same as the Old Norse Ullr; perhaps this is a fortuitous combination of Saxo himself; if this is not the
case, however, it seems hard to account for the conception that a god, whose name means “brilliancy,
glory” should be the representative of the barrenness of winter. He is called Mithotyn in the first
variant, a name which may be explained as a bungled rendering of the Old Norse in jötuðr, a word
meaning “lord, ruler” but also “fate, death”; this name also does not carry us any farther.
These curious tales, the mythological value of which is rather doubtful, as Saxo Grammaticus is
inaccurate in his renderings of the traditions he has collected, bring us to the very core of the
difficulties. For if it may be supposed that they reveal the character of Othin as a god of vegetation,
there seems to be a contradiction in his name, as it means "the furious one" or "the god who gives
mental excitement". There are in this case at least three different spheres of activity to which Othin is
bound, one of agricultural rites, another as god of the dead and a third as the bestower of intellectual
qualities. As the name Wodan was already used in the tracts of the Lower Rhine during the first
centuries of our era, as is proved by the name of Wednesday, we are forced to the rather startling
conclusion, that in those very early times his character as the furious one was clearly predominating.

10. Othin as a God of the Dead

The only way to know something about the real nature of the god Wodan in the Roman period is by his
identification with Mercury. As a rule scholars are prone to regard it with some distrust and to explain it
by assu-[42]ming that there has been some resemblance between these gods as to their attributes, Othin
with his broad-brimmed hat resembling the classic god with his petasos. Now it was the Romans who
made the comparison and they had certainly no opportunity to compare Germanic idols with the
sumptuous statues of their gods, as according to Tacitus no images were to be seen in the Germanic
fanes. So it is altogether improbable that the identification of Othin and Mercury has come about in this
way. The Romans were excellent observers and in this case too they hit the mark, which is proved
sufficiently by the fact that the conception of Mercury 88) in many respects has a very close affinity
with that of Othin.
Both are gods of the dead, leading the crowds of spirits, both wander restlessly through the world,
Mercury as the protector of merchants and travellers, Othin as the visitor of his elected heroes; both are
gods of magic craft, both are the inventors of the arts of writing and of poetry. There seems then to be
reason enough for an identification of these deities and I think we may venture to conclude that these
similarities, at any rate most of them, existed in the period when the Romans made acquaintance with
the Germanic tribes. And so I quite agree with H. M. Chadwick who says 89), that the identification of
Wodan and Mercury would be inexplicable unless the higher idea of the god's character was already to
some extent developed.
So the earliest attainable form of Wödan is that of a god of the dead having his abode in the realms of
the underworld. By his relations with the secret powers of the earth he is in possession of the great
mysteries of the fructifying and vivifying powers; he knows the secret of life which is entrusted to the
Lord of Death; he is the inventor of magic arts 90) including those of poetry and of writing, both
intimately connected with these religious [43] conceptions. Here at the very dawn of history we find a
god whose character is already very complicated, who in fact may have shown the three different
religious conceptions, which we have enumerated above 91).
Are we justified in applying these conclusions to the Scandinavian Othin? This god known to us from
sources that are nearly a thousand years later may show a quite different character. In fact he does, for
if the connection with rites of fertility is hardly visible, he has become the supreme lord of battle, which
the German Wödan certainly was not, as the god of war whose name the Romans rendered by Mars has
been identical with the Scandinavian Týr. This must be the result of a later development during the long
ages of warfare which are commonly called by the name of the Migration of Peoples 92). The
paramount importance of the chieftains and their warriors raised the god of the dead to the divine
protector of the heroes and made him the glorious king of the heavenly Walhalla, in stead of the
gloomy ruler of a subterranean cave of death 93).

II. The place of Othin in the Scandinavian religion

There is a strong tendency among modern scholars to consider the Old-Norse Othin as a divinity of a
rather late date and even of a foreign origin. His worship is supposed to have started among the tribes
of the Lower Rhine and in the first centuries of our era to have been adopted by other Teutonic peoples
as well, till at last he had culminated into the supreme god of the Icelandic mythology 94). This view
was first developed by the Danish scholar Henry Petersen, who adduced a mass of evidence which did
not fail to make a profound impression upon the learned world, scholars being particularly inclined to
[44] any hypothesis which attacked the originality of heathen deities. New facts were adduced in course
of time and so gradually a common opinion began to prevail of the foreign and even rather late origin
of Othin in the Scandinavian mythology.
It is an incontestable fact that there are abundant proofs of the worship of Wödan among the
continental Teutons 95). But, of course, his being venerated in Germany does not exclude his worship
in Scandinavia. Now the evidence of his being more a continental than a Scandinavian deity seemed to
be corroborated by some singular facts which could be explained as indications of the rather small
importance of Othin in the original religion of the Northern peoples. The study of the place-names
containing the name of a heathen god, has led to the result that the name of Othin is very seldom found
in topographical names of Western Scandinavia. The Icelandic tradition is remarkably bare of any
indication of an actual worship of him. More evidence has come forth with regard to Sweden and
Denmark; Adam of Bremen tells us that in the famous temple of Upsala a statue of Othin was erected
and the sanctuary of Odense (= Oðinsvé) proves by its name the worship of this god in the Danish
islands.
Even as a god of runic art which is so remarkable a characteristic of the Old-Norse Othin, he seems to
have been an usurper of the fame which belonged properly to other deities. On the bracteates we often
find a couple of runes which according to Sophus Bugge possibly denote the old war-god Týr 96), but
we never meet with the name of Othin. Even in the runic inscriptions on tombstones the name of Othin
is never found whilst that of Thór occurs in a couple of these monuments 97).
We seem to be justified in surmising that the cult of Othin has come from the South, establishing itself
firmly in Denmark and being readily accepted by the Swedes [45] who, however, worshipped as their
chief god Freyr. The German scholar F. R. Schröder 98) is of opinion that the cult of Othin has spread
to the North in connection with the art of runic writing and he thinks that it was the people of the
Herules who carried this current of civilisation to the North 99). Karl Helm goes even so far as to say
1oo) that the principal gods of the Scandinavians viz. Týr, Thór, Othin and the Vanir have all been
introduced into the pantheon of the Northern peoples as a result of cultural influences from different
parts of Europe. But religious conceptions and the cult of gods do not travel so easily as coins, utensils
and ornaments 101).
What conclusive force have the arguments produced in favour of this hypothesis that Othin is a late
intruder upon the domain of the Scandinavian religion or at any rate that a great many of his most
interesting qualities are a later accretion as the result of foreign influence? I am of course quite
prepared to admit that the importance of Othin in the Scandinavian pantheon increased in the course of
so many ages and that he may have been a rather obscure god in the beginning. Some scholars have put
forth the view that it was only the development of Othin to the chief god of the Old-Norse pantheon,
with his extraordinary mental and spiritual qualities, that should be attributed to this foreign influence.
But then this more primitive Scandinavian god must have borne the same name Óðr or Óðinn, for if he
had not, it would be impossible for us to arrive at any idea about his original significance. A god who
misses the most characteristic qualities of Othin and who has not even his name, is a conception too
vague to lend itself to discussion.
If, however, this more primitive deity has already been called Óðr (or perhaps Othin) then we may be
fairly sure that one of his prominent characteristics was the fury or mental excitement, which is
intimately connected with his [46] intellectual quality as shown by the Old-Norse traditions 102). So,
though his importance in the religious representations of the Viking Age or in the mythological
speculations may have increased considerably, yet his character was, as far back as we can show, the
same, and his later complicated figure was the result of a natural development from this original
conception.
To account for the remarkable fact that there are so very few place-names and even personal names
containing the name of Othin, I wish to draw the attention to a side of this divinity which I have not yet
mentioned. The oath which had to be taken before entering a law-suit at the Icelandic allthing was
pronounced in the name of Freyr, Njord and “hinn allmátki Ass” 103). To the question which god is
meant by this circumlocution, the answer is generally that it is Thor, because he is invoked whenever a
private or public ceremony is celebrated. It is, however, more probable that it is Othin.
Generally oaths are placed under the awful protection of the Lord of Death 104); for such a solemn
affirmation usually has the form of a self-curse, by which the oath-taker gives himself into the power of
the god of the dead should he be a perjurer. Moreover at the great sacrifices in Norway three cups were
drunk in honour of three different gods viz. Othin as the first and then Njord and Freyr 105). This in my
opinion tends to prove that the allmighty Áss of the oath is no other than Othin. Why should the genial
protector of mankind, Thor, if he were meant in this formula, be invoked as though it were dangerous
to pronounce his real name? This fear on the other hand is very natural with regard to Othin. Then the
oath formula proves the great importance of Othin in the social institutions of the Scandinavians. A
remarkable feature is the fear to use his name; this can account for the almost total absence of proper
names containing it as [47] one of the elements. But then we may ask: is the Áss, occurring in
numerous names, as Ásvaldr, Ásgeirr, Ásbjçrn, Ásmundr etc. not really the same as Othin, who in this
disguise may enter into proper-names 106)?
Othin is the principal Áss. In the curious magical stanza, which Egill pronounces when laying his curse
upon the Norwegian king Eiríkr, he invokes besides Freyr and Njörðr the landáss, who in the light of
what we have said above can be none other than Othin. If this be the case then we may expect to learn
something more about his original character, when we know what is meant by the word áss. In the
mythological poetry of the Viking Age it is a name for the gods in general — sometimes Freyr and
Njord however are treated separately as Vanir.
But this was not the original meaning of the name. An Icelandic saga tells about a man who is
venerated after his death as Bárðr Snæfellsáss; surely here the word means something more simple and
primitive: i. e. the dead ancestor who has become an object of veneration. This is, moreover,
corroborated by the belief of the Goths, which Jordanes 107) mentions: “Gothi proceres suos quorum
quasi fortuna vincebant, non puros homines, sed semideos id est Ansis vocaverunt” 1o8). Godlike
beings, not yet gods, that was the' original meaning and the etymology which connects the word áss or
óss, in its older Scandinavian form *ansuR with the same root as Lat. anima, Gr. anemos, Skr. aniti,
Goth usanan, strengthens this conclusion.

12. Conceptions of the spirits of the dead

So áas surely means the spirit of a dead man but at the same time as an object of veneration 109). It is
not those miserable ghosts roaming about restlessly in the wailing storms of the winter, but the
protector and benefactor of [48] the family who is buried in the neighbourhood of the dwelling, which
the descendants continue to inhabit. In the course of many generations he gathers here the deceased
members of his clan and in a wider scope the glorious chieftain of a tribe becomes after his death the
venerated protector of the people, such as the king Oláfr Geirstaðaálfr according to the Norwegian
tradition 110).
This is one side of the relation between the living and the dead; the other is that of awe and fear. Othin
as the lord of Walhall is the god of the dead warriors who have fallen on the battlefield and are
assembled in a subterranean cave where they are often supposed to continue their fierce struggle. Still
Walhall seems to me a specialized form of a more general conception: the Germanic peoples knew a
realm of death, which they called hell, whither all people were believed to descend after death.
Here again, as we find so often in the religious beliefs of primitive as well as of civilized peoples,
different conceptions, which seem to exclude one another, are current at the same time. The dead are
gathered in a common underworld, the warriors fallen in battle dwell in a cave or a mountain in the
neighbourhood of the battlefield, the members of the family live on in their grave-mound, drowned
men go down to the bottom of the sea. The conception of the god of death may be coloured by these
various beliefs; he is at the same time the ruler of the underworld, the deified ancestor of the clan, the
ghostly leader of the wandering spirits.
Besides these conceptions, there lingered on into the last days of heathendom other beliefs of an even
more primitive nature. The spirits of the dead manifest themselves also in the shape of animals; so we
hear about the eagle Hræsvelgr, and the infernal dog Garmr, about ravens and wolves as particularly
connected with Othin and of very great importance: the horse. Modern popular belief [49] still knows a
great deal about the hell-horse; in heathen times the horse of Othin played a prominent part in the
myths of this deity.
If it may be accepted as a general rule that theriomorphic divinities are older than anthropomorphic
gods and that the latter in many instances are developed from the former than we could infer that the
conception of Othin with his horse was a later form of the much more primitive idea of a death-spirit in
the shape of a horse 111). Still this view 112) is in my opinion not in accordance with the facts and only
the result of the adaptation of general principles of comparative religion to the facts of the mythological
traditions of the Teutonic peoples; I think it much more probable that the conceptions of the horse of
death and of an anthropomorphic death-spirit have existed at the same time and naturally in the course
of many ages have been combined.
In my opinion the character of Othin is much too complicated to exhaust its meaning by the simple
formula of an original death-spirit; there are some peculiar facts in the traditions about him which point
rather in the direction of a divine creator of the universe, a conception we meet with in several
primitive religions. But as this belongs to quite a different order of things from that I am discussing in
this paper, I will limit myself to this provisional remark, the more so as I hope to treat of this question
elsewhere at full length.

13. The relation between Wöd and Othin

I have now paved the way for a discussion of the relation between the pagan god Othin and his
namesake in modern popular traditions. The god Othin, in his older form Óðr, is of so high an antiquity,
that it is altogether impossible to arrive at a period within the limits of his-[50]tory, when he did not
exist. Especially in Denmark we have no reason whatever to assume that in the beginning of our era his
cult was either unknown or hardly developed and that it first came to a noteworthy development
through the influence of tribes along the Lower Rhine. I agree with Chadwick who makes the following
statement 113): “Moreover we can hardly doubt that Woden, the god who gives victory and treasure
and who rewards his votaries with a future life spent in fighting and feasting, was the deity par
excellence of the Migration period; especially among the Angli whose princes claimed to he descended
from him”.
If, however, in the fourth and fifth centuries the Germanic tribes who invaded Great Britain already
venerated Wodan in such a highly developed form, the continental stock in Jutland whence they started
must have known him as no less a complicated deity. So we are obliged to conclude that since highest
antiquity the Germanic peoples have known the idea of a corn-spirit, to which the last sheaf was
dedicated, as well as the conception of the god Othin. But we may safely contend that they belong to
two different spheres of religious representations and that in the case of the harvest-sacrifice the figure
of Wodan or Othin is of a relatively late origin. Neither as lord of the dead spirits in their ghostly form
of the Wild Hunt, nor as a god of fertility, does Othin belong to the agrarian customs of the last sheaf.
The way, however, in which the connection of this divinity with these rites has come about is not clear
and many possibilities may be taken into consideration, the more so, because we do not know when the
connection took place. It may have been already in heathen times, it may also have been after the
coming of Christianity and as the result of the unfavourable conception of Othin as an infernal demon.
[51]
So if some straws of grass are left to the horse of Othin, this may have been connected with Othin in
many different ways. The grass or the corn-sheaf, left on the field disappeared in the course of winter;
it was eaten by the birds, the mice, the rabbits or other wild animals. So the spiritual beings to whom
this sacrifice was made, accepted it: if the corn-spirit was supposed to be a horse, as it is still now-a-
days in different parts of Germany, England and France 114), then it lay near at hand to think, that these
last blades of grass or stalks of corn not only represented the vegetation-spirit in its horse-shape, but
that they were at the same time an offering to the horse.
As soon as there existed also the belief in a supernatural being which was thought active during winter
and was connected with a horse, this last sheaf could be considered as a sacrifice to it 115). There is no
certainty that the popular custom of leaving the last blades of grass, as found now-a-days in Denmark
and Sweden, belongs originally to the cult of Othin ; and we have no right whatever to make use of this
piece of modern lore for the reconstruction of the old pagan belief. From time immemorial Othin was
known to the people as the god of the dead; as a leader of the Wild Hunt in winter he belongs as well to
a very high antiquity, if not to the heathen period proper, at any rate to the first centuries after
Christianisation; at any time harvest rites of this kind might have been brought into connection with
him. I should even venture to say that this was more probable after Othin had been debased to a demon
rather than in the heathen period when Othin was gradually rising to a divinity of high importance.
But if we reject the opinion that Othin originally belonged to the harvest-customs of Southern
Scandinavia then might it not be possible that this divinity in an older and more primitive form had
been connected with these agri-[52]cultural customs? If not Wodan, could it not have been Wöd(e)? In
this case it would be necessary to know exactly what is the meaning of Wöd(e). There are three
opinions possible: 1. according to the evidence of modern folklore, Wöd(e) is a demon who is at the
same time the leader of the Wild Hunt and an object of veneration in harvest-cults, 2. according to the
literary traditions about heathen mythology, he is a god who seems to be closely connected with Othin
and possibly has had some importance in rites of fertility, 3. according to etymology as it is commonly
accepted, Wöd(e) means “the raging, furious one” and is a name for the Wild Hunt itself or for its
leader, properly speaking, as Much puts it, the air in movement, “die bewegte Luft”.

14. The etymology of the words Othin and Wode

We may begin with a discussion of the last point. Formerly it was deemed possible to arrive at the
original meaning of a religious phenomenon by trying to solve the problem of the etymology of the
word by which it was called; now-a-days we are more cautious in our conclusions and prefer to
consider the etymology as a way of enforcing a view which is the result of considerations based on a
study of the phenomenon itself. It is especially dangerous to extract from a group of cognate words a
root, the meaning of which is often only a colourless abstraction from them all 116).
When scholars consider the word Wöde, Wödan to belong to a root *ue- “to blow” (cf. Lat. ventus,
Sky. vata) and consequently consider him to be an original wind-god 117), this etymology has some
probability only in the case that his character as wind-god is incontestible. The only argument,
however, which can be adduced in [53] favour of this hypothesis — the popular belief of the raging,
ghostly army (das wütende Heer) —- is too weak, as I shall show presently.
The Germanic words belonging to this group, are German Wut, Dutch woede (furor), Goth. wöþs, Old
Norse óðr, Old English wöd. They lead us to an original stem
*wöþ- with the meaning “furious'' especially “in a high mental excitement”. Of course it is possible that
the mental condition is a later more specialised form of a more general meaning “in violent movement,
excited”; but this can not be settled only by an abstract argument. If we seek for related words in the
Indo-European languages we find: Lat. vates “prophet”, Gall ouáteis, Old-Irish faith “prophet, poet”
118). I see no reason whatever why the Latin word should be a borrowing from the Gallic, nor why the
Gem-manic word should be considered as derived from a Celtic language. The fact that it is found in
these three languages which also in many other respects show a close affinity, is satisfactorily
explained by assuming that it belongs to the original fund of the Indo-European dialect from which
Latin, Germanic and Celtic are the historical developments. As in these languages the meaning of the
word-group is “prophet, poet” or “in a state of mental excitement”, we must content ourselves with this
original sense.
When K. Helm 119) pretends that the sense of a mental state is based on a rather late development of
this god, when he became more spiritualized, he underrates the value of the cognate words in Latin and
Celtic. When he futhermore continues in this way: “any probability of a certain understanding can only
be arrived at when we try to go back to the original concrete meaning of the word, which may he “a
violent, stormy movement”, he makes in my opinion two mistakes: 1. there is no reason to assert why
this should be the only possible way to arrive at a [54] clear understanding of the word-group and 2. he
strangely undervalues the mind of so-called “primitive” peoples as if they were unable to express
abstract ideas in their language 120). Moreover the idea of mental excitement must be very familiar to
primitive man, as an ecstatic state of mind is the typical expression of his religious feelings. The
shamanistic sorcerer, the medicine-man, on a somewhat higher level the prophet and the poet, are
examples of this mental excitement which it is often difficult to distinguish from mental derangement.
So etymology does not bring us further than this conception.
Now, of course, the figure of Wöde in popular lore is the reason of the hypothesis about the connection
between Wödan and the wind. But the name “Wütendes Heer” as it is found in the Southern parts of
Germany 121) only means “the raging host”. The verb “wüten” has the significance of “to rage” which
in course of time was applied not only to mental fury, but to any possible fury. The concrete meaning,
“die sinnliche Bedeutung", is not original, but on the contrary secondary. The spirit Waul, Waudl, the
leader of the ghostly army and to whom the last sheaf is sometimes sacrificed, does not necessarily
belong to this same word-group. In the Swabian dialect we find the words Waude “terrifying spirit” and
Waudel “spectre, phantom', and even Wau-wau or Wauzel, both meaning “terrifying ghost'' 22); they
seem to be derivations from a word wau and in my opinion are not connected at all with the root *woþ
but are more likely to be anonomatopoetic formation.
This does not mean that at the bottom of these names for the Wild Hunt there may not lie the word
Wöde which we find elsewhere medieval sources cited above show the contrary — and the modern
forms Waudl, Waude may consequently be later modifications. But then the difficulty remains that we
have no certainty whatever as to the date [55] when the host of spirits was first called “wütendes Heer"
and consequently as to the exact meaning of the word “wüten” in that period. I consider the name to be
certainly of a date later than the introduction of Christianity, but in this case it seems wellnigh a
hopeless task to determine what could have been the meaning of this Wode in heathen times.

15. The relation of Othin to the harvest customs

So for our knowledge of the original meaning of Othin modern popular traditions are without any value
whatever. If now-a-days a peasant sacrifices a sheaf of corn to the horse of Othin, this does not imply
that his heathen ancestor did the same, for he may have intended the sacrifice to a corn-spirit in an
animal form or he may even have intended no sacrifice at all. The word Wode, Othin and its
corresponding forms 123:) are more probably one of the many instances of the phenomenon that
elements of a higher civilisation have sunk down to a lower level of the population, the reason being in
this case that the heathen gods had been degraded into demoniac beings. The problem then is not what
kind of god the Wode of modern popular tradition represents, but if at the time when the debased Othin
was assimilated to the harvest-customs of the peasantry, he was accepted as a leader of the ghostly
army or as a vegetation-god.
And that question can only be answered by a study of the old literary sources treating of the heathen
religion. These, however, make it fairly sure that he was originally a god of the dead, not exclusively of
the restless spirits, but in the general sense of the Lord of Death. His name characterizes him as
intimately connected with the magical to procure secret wisdom, which very often is supposed [56] to
be in the possession of the dead. The identity of Wodan and Mercury proves this conception to have
existed as early as the beginning of our era. Perhaps a bit of popular lore gives an analogous evidence;
Wednesday is supposed to be highly favourable for magical practices 124); might this not be explained
as a remembrance of the magical virtues which the god of this day, Wodan, possessed in pagan times?
The god of the dead has developed in times of war, such as in the Migration and the Viking Period into
a protector of the brave warriors, who collects them in his splendid heavenly abode. I consider it to be
quite improbable that this important god has at the same time been a leader of restless, wandering
spirits; but as soon as after the introduction of Christianity the terror for the spirits in midwinter had
become greater, the old god of the dead, now debased into a dangerous demon, was naturally combined
with the Wild Hunt. If the Norwegian word Oskorei originally means “the ride of the Áss-god” 125), it
is indeed a remarkable proof for the conception of the Æsir as spirits of the dead, but the idea that this
Áss-god was the chief of the Wild Hunt is not necessarily heathen: it may have arisen in the period
after Christianisation. The famous description of the Wild Hunt in the Njálssaga mentions at the head of
it a man on a grey horse, bearing in his hand a burning torch and being himself as black as pitch. I fully
agree with F. Jónsson that we may not see in this infernal being the god Othin 126). It is a “gandreið”,
says the saga itself, which belongs to quite a different order of religious phenomena 127).
In course of time the idea of sin, which had to be expiated in this fearful way, became predominating
and fettered the ghostly army and its demoniac leader still more closely together. But that this
connection is not at all original, is proved by the Norwegian belief of the Oskorei; [57] for this host of
furious spirits is led by Guro Rysserova, the famous Gudrun of the Nibelungen-story. In Norway it was
a woman and a person belonging to heroic legend, who having fallen to the state of a diabolocal being
led the Wild Hunt. Even elsewhere in the Teutonic world we find a woman as the leader of the Wild
Hunt; Burckhard of Worms already speaks about a female, whom people call Holda, being at the head
of the army of ghosts. In modern times this same belief has been noted down in different parts of
Germany 128).
Of course there has been for the religious mind of the heathen Germans the idea of a strong connection
between the storm of winter and the spirits of the dead. The double sense of the Latin word anima is an
eloquent testimony for this world-wide belief. The winged Harpies who, according to old Greek belief,
hurried along like the storm-wind were demons of death. The soul leaving the dead body as a wind is a
very common conception. The Permian peoples for example believed that on the death of a shaman a
storm was sure to arise 129) and likewise it is believed that there always blows a violent wind on All
Souls Day 130). Sacrifices to the wind were in Ancient Greece black animals immolated in the night;
the cult of the winds has an unmistakebly chthonic character on account of their relation to the spirits of
the dead 131). Now the wind was often conceived in the form of a horse; I agree with Karl Helm 1 32)
that this is a very old belief reaching back to prehistoiric ages; that it is the swiftness of the horse which
lies at the bottom of the comparison between it and the wind, is although by no means sure, at all
events not improbable.
So the horse of the wind and the horse of death may be two religious conceptions of different origin;
they could not help becoming inseparably commingled with each other in the course of later
development, if the German peasant [58] now-a-days throws some straws of hay or some flowers into
the air as food for the wind 133), he intends to appease the dangerous storm-demon; if the Swedish
peasant on the other hand leaves somc cornstalks for the horse of Othin he only intends to secure a
good harvest for the next year. These practices are absolutely different. The contamination of unrelated
religious spheres may be shown by another example relating to the mythical conceptions of the horse.
Its importance in rites of vegetation is well-known, it may suffice to mention the asvamedha of the
Indians, the ritual of the October-horse with the Romans and the curious Norwegian cult of Völsi, I
dare not follow F. R. SchrOder in his conclusion 134) that Othin's horse Sleipnir has been at the same
time a deathhorse and a vegetation-spirit, but that in later times these two conceptions have melted into
one is shown by the curious custom in Norway which Storaker mentions: in Telemarken on Yule-eve a
cake is baked which was called “Helhesten” (the hell-horse) and it was eaten on Candlemas Day. So it
may be tempting to consider the custom of the last sheaf for Othin's horse as a typical form of a
vegetation rite, none the less this seems open to serious doubt, when we consider the custom which is
found in Halland: the last sheaf which is left standing on the field is given as fodder for the hests of the
Lusselärs-family. Here the peasant tries to appease the army of ghosts which, in the same district of
Sweden, is called not only by the name of Lusse-fär 135) but also of Hoajakten (the hunt of Othin or of
a chthonic spirit) 136). It is quite obvious that a modern peasant who has only the wish to avert the
evils of malicious beings, the number of which has been sadly increased after Christianisation, may
very easily confuse different practices into one. [59]

16. Othin as a god of fertility

After such reflections we shall be rather sceptical as to the possibility of answering the question
whether the Swedish harvest-custom has anything to do with an original conception of Othin as a god
of fertility. The student of the religion of the Teutons will not expect any light from this modern custom
which is limited to a small part of the Germanic peoples; on the other hand the student of modern
agricultural rites can only explain the Othin of Swedish folklore as a god of fertility, if he is able to find
reliable evidence in the historical monuments of the heathen period.
In his interesting paper on “Julkärve och Odinskult” the Swedish folklorist Hilding Celander 137) has
tried to collect some material which might point in this direction. The most important fact, in my
opinion, the temporary disappearing of Óðr or Othin, has been left out of the discussion and the facts he
himself adduces are far from convincing. So the belief that Othin during Yule-tide visits the earth does
not prove at all that he does so in his character of a vegetation god. At the heathen Yule-sacrifice, the
first cup was proffered to Othin ; this certainly proves the close connection of Othin and the feast of the
dead, but in no way any relation between him and the blessings of fertility: this cup, as is stated
expressly by Snorri should be drunk 'till sigrs ok ríkis konungi sinum” and not “til árs ok friðar"; for
this was the special domain of Njord and Freyr in whose names the two following cups were drunk.
Celander tries to gather new evidence from modern popular lore when he reminds us of the Swedish
belief that Othin was the giver of wealth. How could a god who gave wealth to the peasants of Värend
have done it in heathen times but by bestowing abundant harvest and cattle? The answer upon this
question of Celander, however, lies already in the words he himself quotes from his [6o] source, the
well-known book of Hyltén-Cavallius “Värend och Virdarna”: Othin was “den landskunnige
runokarlen och afguden”. The popular tradition does not mention cattle and harvest, but on the contrary
riches and money 138); if people thought that it was Othin who could procure them it certainly was as
god of the runes and of all magic practices, not as a divinity of vegetation.
No, conclusive proofs for a belief that Othin was a god who bestowed the blessings of fertility are to be
found neither in modern folklore, nor in the Old-Norse traditions. Even a place-name Odinsakr of
which a few instances are found in Norway and Sweden does not prove much for the conception of
Othin as a god of fertility, although the word akr of course has a strictly agrarian meaning. Magnus
Olsen 139) makes it very probable that these names belong to the latest layer of akr-names; if, however,
he brings this into connection with the late arrival of the Othin—cult in Norway, I do not consider it to
be the only way of explaining this singular fact, for the rather late development of Othin into a
vegetationgod might just as well account for it. So we are only justified in saying that such a belief is
possible, because a god of the dead is very often thought to possess the power of fertility and because
there exists a rather obscure myth of his disappearance during a part of the year, which might be
interpreted in this way.

17. Othin in modern Scandinavian tradition

Finally, does the custom which I have been discussing in this paper prove by its being limited to some
regions of Denmark and Sweden, that Othin had been more venerated there than elsewhere in the
Scandinavian countries? The study of place-names and the literary traditions agree in giving indications
for the spread of the cult of Othin [61] from the Eastern parts of Scandinavia Westwards. To account
for the fact by the theory about the Herulian people who had introduced the runic art and the cult of
Othin, as Celander proposes to do, is a baseless hypothesis. There are so many reasons possible for the
explanation of this curious fact. If we take into consideration that this harvest custom is found in such
parts of Scandinavia, where from time immemorial the tilling of the soil was the chief means of
subsistence, we may conclude that a people of peasants very naturally ascribes to its most important
god the blessings of fertility. While in Norway and Iceland, Othin was lifted up to the chief god of an
aristocratic society, who became the protector of warriors and poets, in other parts of the North, where
the bulk of the nation consisted of peasants, he became a god appropriate for the needs of an
agricultural society. The harvest customs connected with Othin are found in those parts of Sweden
which belonged formerly to Denmark; so they are most probably of Danish origin. Here too we find in
the cult-centre of Odense the proof for his great importance. This makes it probable that he even won a
place in the harvest customs of this people.
The conception of Othin as the Wild Huntsman (or more exactly: the identification of the Wild
Huntsman with Othin) prevails in the Western parts of Denmark; would it be by mere chance that this
characteristic of Othin is bound to the barren heaths of Jutland, while in the fertile Danish islands his
relation to the rites of vegetation has become predominant 140)?
Still we should not press the argument. In Sweden also the heathen god has been debased into the
leader of the army of ghosts: he is said to have resided on a large farm in the neighbourhood of
Röstanga and it was as a punishment for his sins that this farm was sunk on the very spot where we
now find Odensjö, "the Lake of Othin" 141). [62] Here clearly the name of this place has kept alive the
remembrance of the god.
But in several popular traditions his name has been handed down in the course of ages, especially in
such a semi-literary character. In the popular ballad "Stolt Herr Alf" st. 8 we read the line "hielp nu
Oden Asagrim" 142). It is probably of more importance that Othin is mentioned in a couple of charms.
Well known are the Swedish variants of the so-called charm of Merseburg of which a form current in
Småland begins with the line "Oden rider öfver sten och bärg", another one from the same district with
the opening line "Oden star på berget" 143). But we find quite the same in other charms as well; so an
incantation against thieves runs as follows 144):

Jag manar dig väder i vård

Jag manar dig jord i vård
Jag manar dig Oden of Adersgård
att du tar mina håfvor tillbaka a.s.o.

If we take then into consideration the rather numerous instances of popular belief about Othin, which
Hyltén-Cavallius has collected, we get the impression that the people down to modern days have
known Othin as the great magician, a mighty "runokarl", whose demoniac character was quite familiar
to them. So, when we find his name connected with agrarian customs in this part of Scandinavia, it may
be of rather late origin and need not at any rate go back at all to a heathen period, when this god might
have been an important divinity in rural life 145).

18. Conclusion

It has for a long time been a favourite method in the study of the old Teutonic religion to complement
the scanty information of the extant literary monuments by the popular [63] traditions of modern times.
The purpose of this paper is to show the danger of such a method. Folklore gives us valuable material
in as much we may learn from it how complicated modern conceptions are; in fact they contain at the
same time relics of the highest antiquity and elements of much more recent origin. Here the drags of all
bygone ages are massed together but at the same time these elements are constantly shifting their form
and character. If we find a name which reminds us of the heathen religion it may still be that it is a
name without any content. A custom which now seems to be exclusively agrarian may have originated
in quite another sphere of religious rites. When we possess an accurate knowledge of the origin of a
modern popular tradition we may trace the line of development downwards, but to seek from modern
folklore the way to a source which is only superficially known to us, seems to me a fruitless task. The
clue of the problems of the heathen Teutonic religion is to be found almost exclusively in the ancient
literary monuments and we may expect only in a very few cases that the light which modern folklore
throws upon the past, is something better than a will-o'-the-wisp.
Notes and Additional Remarks

1) Cf. new edition I, p. 159.

2) G. Landtman, Folktro och Trolldom I, Övernaturliga väsen (Finlands svenska Folkdiktning VII, i,
Helsingfors 1919) P. 8.
3) Cf. Kaarle Krohn, Skandinavisk Mytologi p. 87-88, who however seems to me to be too sceptical on
this subject. The same observation has been made with regard to "primitive" man who also answers
according to the wish of his interlocutor, he very shrewdly guesses cf. H. Basedow, The Australian
Aboriginal p. 228.
4) E. Elgqvist, Folkminnen och Folktankar XVI (1929) p. 91.
5) In Gärds herad the sheaf was sacrificed to Noen and his dogs cf. A. Helgesson, Folkminnen och
Folktankar IV (1917) p. 145.
6) See about these traditions the excellent study of Hans Ellekilde, Odinsjægeren paa Møn, in the
Nordiskt Folkeminne p. 85-1 16 ; he mentions all known forms of the name, which are besides Jøden
and Jætten (the Jew and the Giant) such as Gjøjen, Joing, which may be the same word as Goden
(Góinn). The name Opsal does not mean the Swedish town Upsala, but is rather a circumlocution for
Møns Klint (the elevated hall).
7) See Axel Olrik, Danske Studier 1904 p. 35-38. - According to a communication from Bornholm the
[65] last sheaf was left on the field for "Landkongens hest", cf. Skattegraveren III, p. 25
8) With regard to its possibly being known in Eastgötland too cf. M. Pn. Nilsson, Folkminnen och
Folktankar VIII (1921) p. 69. - See also H. Celander, Rig 1920 p. 171.
9) J. Th. Storaker, Elementerne in den Norske Folketro (Norsk Folkeminnelag X) p. 135 ff.
10) Cf. Landtman o. c. II, Växtlighetsriter (Helsingfors 1925) p. 111
11) Cf. Pfannenschmid, Germanische Erntefeste p. 409.
12) Cf. U. Jahn, Die deutschen Opferbräuche p. 163.
13) U. Jahn o. c. p. 173. Cf. also Mannhardt, Die Korndämonen (Berlin 1868) p. VII.
14) For another and sounder interpretation see the excellent monography of Nils Lid, Joleband og
vegetationsguddom (Skrifter utgitt av Det Norske Videnskaps-Akademi i Oslo II, Hist.-Filos. Klasse
1928 Nr. 4) p. 270 f.
15) Jahn. o. c. p. 165.
16) Wald- and Feldkulte (Berlin 1875-1877).
17) Spirits of the Corn and the Wild (The Golden Bough V).
18) Der Ackerbau im Volksaberglauben der Finnen and Esten mit entsprechenden Gebräuchen der
Germanen verglichen (FF Communications Nrs. 30, 31, 32, 55 and 62).
19) See the title of the book in note 14.
201) Cf. H. Ellekilde, Ellekongen i Stevns, Danske Studier 1929 p. 10-39. His conclusion that this king
of the elves really should be the old stormgod Othin, is not borne out by the facts ; the elves of the
heathen period certainly were spirits of the dead (cf. Oláfr Geirstaða-álfr), especially connected with
the [66] prosperity of the soil (álfablót). So a sacrifice to them in harvest time does not necessarily
imply and relation with Othin.
21) Cf. G. Landtman, Hustomtens förvantskap och härstamning in Folkloristiska och etnografiska
Studier III, p. 12.
22) Cf. Jahn o. c. p. 182 ff and Frazer, The Spirits of the Corn and the Wild I, p. 131 ff.
23) This Danish information, as well as most of the references to Danish customs in this paper are
taken from the abundant material in the Danish Folkeminde Samling, which Mr. H. Ellekilde has been
so kind as to place at my disposal.
24) Johannes Skar, Gamalt or Sætesdal I (first edition.), p. 8 says, that people formerly always left
something in the barn, the porridge-bowl, the bread-tray, the purse etc. "de var a fatigt Hus, sopar an ut
alt Bosi". And on p. 7o he tells about a man, who was always in the habit of cutting the corn very
carelessly "so hadde han langt Hoy til kvart Aar". See moreover for the idea of the first and the last in
popular belief Von Sydow in Folkminnen och Folktankar XIII (1926) P- 53 f and esp. p. 68.
25) See Axel Olrik, Danske Studier 1904, p. 38
26) See Elgqvist, Folkminnen och Folktankar XVI (1929) p. 94.
27) Cf. Nikander, Fruktbarhetsriter hos svenskarna i Finland (Folkloristiska och etnografiska Studier I)
p. 259 and J. Th. Storaker, Naturrigerne i den norske folketro (Norsk Folkeminnelag XVIII) p. 70-71.
For more examples see Frazer, The Golden Bough (abridged edition) p. 232-233.
28) Cf. Rantasalo o. c. 111, p. 79. Also the superstitions about the lykkebiten of a cake in Norway or
the maktbiten in Sweden (Nils Lid 0. C. P. 215).
[67]
29) Cf. U. Holmberg, Die Religion der Tscheremissen, FFComm Nr. 61 p. 88.
30) Cf. U. Holmberg, Die Wassergottheiten der finnischugrischen Völker (Mémoires de la Société
FinnoOugrienne XXXIII Helsingfors 1913, p. 6.
31) Cf. U. Holmberg, Doppelfrucht im Aberglauben (Suomalais-ugrilaisen Seuran toimituksia LII, p.
48-66. - Perhaps we may compare the curious custom in Kragelund, Viborg amt, Jutland of binding the
last sheaf so as to divide the top into two parts and to call it "tvillingneget".
32) The Golden Bough (Abridged edition) p. 453.
33) The last sheaf is called fox in the Danish Islands of Sjælland and Fyn; in the latter it has too the
name of sow ; but it is called hare in Lolland, Falster and the Juttish peninsula.
34) Cf. U. Holmberg, Finno-Ugric Mythology p. 247.
35) Cf. J. Schrijnen, Nederlandsche Volkskunde 1, p. 280.
36) The idea of the "blood of the hare" is also found in Norwegian popular customs, cf. Nils Lid o. c. p.
22.
37) Cf. f. i. Kr. Bugge in Festskrift Feilberg p. 170 who gives an example from the Trondhjem district.
38) There are more instances of a spirit who is at first in a hostile mood and refuses to submit to man,
but after being, subdued gives all desired help and information. So is the Greek Proteus and the
merman of popular belief. But it seems to me that in the case of the spirit of vegetation the explanation
of its double attitude towards man is more complicated.
39) Cf. U. Holmberg, Virolaiset viljaneitsyt (Suomalais-Ugrilaisen Seuran Toimituksia XXXV, 3) p. 10.

40) Cf. Frazer, o. c. p. 399 ff.

41) Cf. Frazer, o. c. p. 402 ff.
42) Cf. M. Pn. Nilsson, Aarets folkelige Fester (Religions-historiske Smaaskrifter, Anden Række VI) p.
9.
[68]
43) I take this very illustrative example from the interesting paper of G. Landtman about "Hustomtens
förvantskap and härstamning" in Folkloristiska och Etnografiska Studier III (Helsingfors 1922).
44) The reader will observe that the name of "the Old One" serves also to denote the corn-spirit in its
human form (vide supra); this is not of course a mere coincidence.
45) Cf. Rantasalo o. c. V, p. 198.
46) Cf. Uno Holmberg, Vänster Hand och motsols in Rig 1925, p. 23 ff.
47) Cf. M. Pn. Nilsson, Folkminnen och Folktankar VIII (1921) p. 59.
48) Cf. E. Elgqvist, Folkminnen och Folktankar XVI (1929) p. 91.
49) Hilding Celander, Nordisk Jul 1, p. 147.
50) o. c. p. 193 ff. 51) o. c. p. 149.52) o. c. p. 86.
51) o. c. p. 149.
52) o. c. p. 86.
53) Cf. Skånska Folkminnen, Årsbok 1929, p. 151.
54) Cf. Nils Lid o. c. p. 138.
55) Wegelius and Wikman, Folkloristiska och Etnografiska Studier I (Helsingfors 1916) p. 161.
56) The Karelians kill on St. Olav's day a lamb without a knife; the bones may not be broken. A part of
the flesh is put in a corner of the room for the housespirits, another part on the field, a third part under
the birch-trees which they intend to use as May-poles (H. Celander, Folkminnen och Folktankar XII,
1925, 4, p. 5).
57) Cf. M. Pn. Nilsson, Aarets folkelige fester p. 50 f.
58) Cf. P. Sébillot, Le Folklore de France 1, p. 166 ff and J. P. Jacobsen, Harlekin og den vilde Jæger in
Dania IX (1902) p. I ff.
[69]
59) This is again an instance of the vague character of popular ideas as mentioned above.
60) The name Óðr, the relation of which to Óðinn will be discussed presently, gives strong support to
this opinion.
61) Cf. Dania 11, p. 121.
62) Cf. Grundtvig, Danmarks gamle Folkeviser III, p. 909 b: in some parts of Denmark the migratory
birds are called dogs of heaven (himmelhunde). In Sweden people say when they are passing by: they
are the dogs og Othin (Hyltén-Cavallius I, p. 1621. Likewise in some parts of Holland the Wild Hunt,
the "Berndekesjacht" is supposed to pass by when the wild geese are heard in the sky, cf.
Driemaandelÿksche Bladen II (1903) p. 5 and III (1904) p. 3.
63) Cf. the words of Geiler von Kaisersberg (quoted by L. Weniger, Feralis Exercitus in the Archiv für
Religionswissenschaft IX, 19o6, p. 22o): Also redt der gemeine Man von dem Wütischen Heer dass
die, die vor den Zeiten sterben, ee denn dass inen Got hat uffgesetzet, als die, die in die Reis laufen and
erstochen werden, oder gehenkt and ertrenkt werden, die müssen also lang nach irem todt laufen, bis
das zil kumpt, das inen Got gesetzet hat and darn so würkt Got mit inen, was sein götlicher Wil ist.
64) Cf. ed. Sievers 133, 16.
65) Cf. Graff, Althochdeutscher Sprachschatz I, p. 767.
66) This agrees also with the most probable etymology of the Germanic word-group, see p. 53
67) Gislason, Efterladte Skrifter I, p. 187 : de sjæleevner der udmærke mennesket fremfor dyret.
68) Cf. the Old-Norse gyzki "insanity'', derived from Germ. adj. "gudisk- "possessed by a god".
69) F. Jónsson, Skjaldedigtning I, p. 284.
70) See idem p. 449.
[70]
71) See Jónsson's edition p. 1oo.
72) See Rantasalo o. c. II, p. 47.
73) See F. Kluge, Nominale Stammbildungslehre der, altgermanischen Dialekte § 2o and C. J. S.
Marstrander, Norsk Tidsskrift for Sprogvidenskap I (1928) p. 158 ff.
74) See Kluge o. c. § 29.
75) For the different forms in -ann, -inn see R. C. Boer, Oudnoorsch Handboek § 138 note 2.
76) See o. c. p. 159. Riese, however, in his book Das rheinische Germanien in den antiken Inschriften,
Nr. 3357, supposes the name to have been Leudicianus.
77) Schmidt's Zeitschrift f. Geschichte VIII, p. 264 note.
78) Mogk, Grundriss (2) III, p. 358 ff; Kauffmann, PBB XVIII, p. 140 ff; Helm, Altgermanische
Religionsgeschichte I, p. 381.
79) Hedenske Kultminder i norske Stedsnavne I (Oslo 1915) and Ættegard og Helligdom, Norske
Stedsnavn sosialt og religionshistorisk belyst (Oslo 1926).
8o) This and other examples adduced below show that K. Helm o. c. I, p. 264 wrongly denies the
possibility of the derivation of a personal name from another one by the suffix -no.
81) Cf. M. Olsen, Stedsnavn og Gudenavn i Land (Avh. Norske Vid. Akad. Oslo, II 1929, Nr. 3) p. 77.
The same root occurs in the name of the Indian god Vrtra, who, according to K. F. Johansson, Über die
altindische Göttin Dhisana and Verwandtes in the Skrifter utgifna of Kungl. Hum. Vet. Samf i Uppsala
XX, I, p. 137, may be compared with the Scandinavian Ullr in many respects. - Cf. also Johan Palmér
in Acta Philologica Scandinavica V, p. 290-291.
82) Then we accept the etymology which combines this word with Gr. anèr Skr. nara, Old-Irish nert
and [71] we reject the hypothesis of F. R. Schröder, Germanentum and Hellenismus p. 51, who
compares the Skr, root nrt "to dance". Sten Konow, who in the same year as Schröder proposed this
etymology (Festskrift Kjær p. 53-60) insists upon *Nerþu- being an -u-stem, not a -tu-stem, but I do
not see the reason of this opinion. The analogy of Óðr and Ullr points at any rate in an other direction.
83) This is the explanation of Axel Kock in ZfdPhil. XXVIII, p. 289 ff.
84) The problem of the different sex may also be solved in another way, as indicated by Edv. Lehmann
in Maal og Minne 1919 p. I ff: Nerthus could have been a hermaphroditical divinity, of which Tacitus'
Nerthus forms the female and the Old-Norse Njord the male counterpart. Still I should be inclined to
think even when accepting this hypothesis, that the form of the name more particularly denotes the god
of fertility, not the goddess.
85) In this connection the Old Norse divinities Fjörgyn and Fjörgynn deserve to be mentioned; I may
refer the reader to my paper in the Dutch Tijdschrift voor Nederlandsche Taal- en Letterkunde L (1931)
p. 1-25
86) Cf. L. Malten, Das Pferd im Totenglauben, Jahrbuch des Kais. d. Arch. Instituts XXIX (1914).
87) At any rate I consider this to be a much more satisfactory explanation than that which is commonly
found in the handbooks, that the relation between Óðr and Frigg is in some way connected with the
popular belief of the Wild Huntsman who pursues a nymph of the forest (Cf. W. Golther, Handbuch der
germanischen Mythologie p. 288).
88) For a discussion of the meaning of the classical god Mercurius-Hermes see the following recent
papers: W. B. Kristensen, De goddelijke bedrieger (Mede-[72] deelingen der Kon. Acad van
Wetenschappen, Afd. Letterk. 66 B, Nr. 3) and J. P. B. de Josselin de Jong, De oorsprong van den
goddelijken bedrieger (ibidem 68 B, Nr. I).
89) See The Cult of Othin p. 67.
90) According to Gregory of Tours (Historia Francorum II, p. 29) the gods Mars and Mercury of the
Franks were magicis artibus praediti.
91) Cf. Alex. Haggarty Krappe, Etudes de mythologie et de folklore germaniques p. 38: the reason for
Othin's being identified with Mercury is that he was . . . . un intellectuel, qu'il l'était déjá au premier
siécle de notre ère.
92) This may have taken place in some parts of the Germanic world already in an earlier period; when
according to Tacitus Ann. XIII, 57 in the war between the Chatti and the Hermunduri the defeated army
was devoted to Mars and Mercury, the god of death is so closely associated with the war-god that in
course of time a fusion into each other seems inevitable. The same holds good with regard to the
information of Gregory of Tours cited above. If the supreme hero of the Goths whom Jordanes, Get.
XIV, 79 calls Gapt, possibly a mistake for Gaut, really should be the same as Wödan, he could have
been conceived as such in his character of god of the dead and it is not at all necessary to suppose him
to have been a god of war; the same may be said with regard to the Anglo-Saxon belief that Wödan was
the god de cujus stirpe multarum provinciarum regium genus originem duxit, as Bede styles it (Hist.
Eccl. I, 15).
93) See G. Neckel, Walhall, Studien fiber germanischen Jenseitsglauben (Dortmund 1913).
[73]
94) As early as 1822 a German scholar H. Leo wrote a very confused paper "Über Odins Verehrung in
Deutschland", in which he tried to prove that the tribes of Alemans, Franks and Burgundians had never
worshipped Othin, but that he had been introduced into the Teutonic world by an invading people come
from Eastern Europe and influencing particularly Saxons, Goths and Langobards. This is a quite
opposite view from that accepted by modern scholars.
95) See Chantepie de la Saussaye, The Religion of the Teutons p. 222 ff.
96) See S. Bugge, Aarbøger etc. 1905 p. 318 where he mentions the word ti, tiu explained as the
vocative for the name Týr. This is an assertion which it is difficult to prove. More important is the fact
that the runic character T, called Týr in the runic alphabets is sometimes used in a magical sense; on
bracteate Nr. 57 from Sjælland even in the significant form explained by M. Olsen as a threefold
invocation of the god (o. c. p. 286), by Marstrander however as a crystalized cornear (hesitatingly in
Norsk Tidsskrift for Sprogvidenskap III, p. 137).
97) The runic stones of Glavendrup (þur uiki þasi runaR), of Virring (þur uiki þisi kuml) and of S.
Kirkeby (þur uiki runaR), all belonging to the 10th century. This is, however, in my opinion no genuine
heathen custom. Just as the hammertoken of Thor is put on the stones in imitation of the Christian
cross-symbol, so too the name of this god was sometimes added under the same Christian influence.
98) Altgermanische Kukturprobleme p. 59.
99) He follows in this the hypothesis of Von Friesen, Röstenen i Bohuslän p. 45 ff, which has been
accepted by several scholars, recently even by S. Agrell, Rökstenens chiffergåttor p. 98 although it
seems [74] hard to reconcile it with his own theories about the origin of the runic art. It seems,
however, to me that the hypothesis of the Herules rests upon rather shaky foundations as we know too
little about this tribe to ascribe to it the spreading of such cultural goods as the runic art.
1oo) Spaltung, Schichtung and Mischung im germanischen Heidentum (Ehrismann-Festschrift 1925) p.
15 ff.
101) After having written this passage I read the paper of Carl Clemen, Südöstliche Einflüsse auf die
nordische Tradition? in the ZfdPhil. LV (193o) p. 148 ff and cannot but approve of this sound criticism
with regard to the above named far reaching hypotheses, in the upbuilding of which the way from the
possible to the probable and thence to the certain is a rather short one.
102) The reasons, why I reject the opinion that Wodan is the leader of the Wode, this word being the
name for the furious host of spirits, will be given below.
103) Cf. Flateyjarbók 1, p. 249. - The question as to whether this oathformula is really genuinely
heathen (as it was generally accepted, cf. Heusler, Das Strafrecht der Isländersagas p. 34) has lately
peen raised by Helmut de boor in Deutsche Island-Forschung 1930 p. 137 note 9o; he thinks it probable
that this formula is a learned invention and that the adjective allmáttugr betrays Christian influence. In
my opinion the argument of the lack of evidence for this formula in sources older than the thirteenth
century, has but little value, as it is merely ex silentio. The correspondence between the heathen and the
Christian oath-formulas may be explained by the Christianization of a pagan example. How can we be
sure that the heathen Teutons did not know a god, who punished a broken oath, as Von Amira [75]
(Grundriss des germanische Rechts 3, p. 270) asserts? And finally as in the meaning of the word
allmáttugr that of máttr "magic power" is the original one, I do not believe that it is only to be restricted
to the sphere of giants and demons (as De boor o. c. p. 98 says), but that it belongs as well to the god of
all magic arts, i. e. Othin. So I consider this to be again a proof for my conception that hinn allmátki
'ass is not Thor but Othin.
104) This is a well-known fact; for the classical peoples see S. Eitrem. Opferritus and Voropfer der
Griechen and Römer (Videnskapsselskabets Skrifter 1914, Nr. 1 p. 422) and R. Farnell, The Cults of
the Greek States I, p. 69 and III, p. 74. Cf. also Helgakv. Hundingsbana II, 31, where an oath is made at
inoliósa Leiptrar vatni, and as Leiptr is a river in the underworld this may be compared with the Greek
oath by the Styx.
105) See Snorri's Heimskringla (ed. F. Jónsson) I, p. 187
106) So I do not agree with E. Wessén, Nordiska Namnstudier (Uppsala Univers. Årsskrift 1927) p. 81
who considers Thor to be the real 'ass. I lack here the space to criticise all his arguments, but I may
make a choice. In the mythological poems all gods are called Æsir; so it is not strange that the vigour
and the anger of Thor, by which the Æsir are defended, are called ásmegin and ásmóðr. If Thor bears
the name ásabragr, Othin does so likewise. If Ásgarðr is found only in two poems (Hymiskviða and
Þrymskviða) treating about Thor, this may be explained by the late origin of this name for the heavenly
abode of the gods. (See moreover for the the young character of the Þrymskviða my paper in the
Tijdschrift voor Nederl. Taal- en Letterkunde XLVII (1928) p. 251-322). - On the other hand in [76]
many poems Othin is represented as the chief of the Æsir.
107) Get. XIII, 78.
108) C. J. S. Marstrander has in the Norsk Tidsskrift for Sprogvidenskap IV, p. 321 asserted that the
latinized form ansis can not denote a Gothic word ansus but must be a rendering for *anseis, nom sg. of
a wordstem *ansija- which means "born from the Æsir". This opinion is based on, the supposition that
ansis is a singular, which it clearly is not, if we have to take Jordanes' text as it stands. For then it is
only to be taken as a plural, and may be as well a rendering of *ansius as of *ansios, in my opinion
even more likely the former than the latter.
109) If this conception is right, then the word ásmegir for the inhabitants of Hell is easy to understand
and we need not recur to Falk's explanation of this use (Festskrift Kjær p. 6-7).
110) Heimskringla I, p. 81.
111) For the well established fact of a close connection between Othin and the horse, it is superfluous
to give further evidence, cf. S. Agrell, Rökstenens Chiffergåtor, Vetensk. Samf. i Lund Årsberattelse
1929-1930 p. 22.
112) See f. e. W. Steller, Zeitschrift fir Volkskunde, Neue Folge II, p. 64 ff.
113) The Origin of the English Nation p. 178.
114) Cf. Frazer, The Golden Bough V, p. 292 ff.
115) Mannhardt strongly affirms (Mythologische Forschungen p. 165) that the horse which appears in
different agricultural rites (Schimmel, Fastnachtspferd, Wooden horse, Hobbyhorse) is nothing but the
vegetationhorse and not a representation of Wodan. Celander, Folkminnen och Folktankar VII (1920) p.
99 is of the same opinion.
[77]
116) Cf. my paper on "Hunebedden en Hunen" in the Tijdschrift voor Nederlandsche Taal- en
Letterkunde XLIX (1930), especially on p. 91.
117) Cf. K. Helm, Altgermanische Religionsgeschichte I, p. 261 note 47
1 18) Cf. S. Feist, Etymologisches Wörterbuch der gotischen Sprache p. 436. C. C. Uhlenbeck,
Theologisch Tijdschrift XXXVII (1903) p. 252 accepts the same etymology; his conclusion that Wodan
must have been a windgod although the word has nothing to do with "wind" seems to be under the
impression of the general opinion about the character of this pagan deity, which prevailed in the
beginning of our century.
119) o. c. p. 261.
120) Against this opinion of Lévy-Bruhl, Les Fonctions mentales dans les sociétés inferieures serious
objections may be raised both on an ethnological (cf. O. Leroy, La Raison primitive) and on a linguistic
basis (Cf. A. Trombetti, Introduzione agli Elementi di Glottologia).
121.) See Schmeller, Bayerisches Wörterbuch II, p. 861: wâdeshêr, p. 1056: wüethes hör (ms. of the
16th century) ; Martin-Lienhart, Wörterbuch der elsässischen Mundarten I, p. 367: wüetig heer.
122) H. Fischer, Schwäbisches Wörterbuch VI, p. 506. Cf. the word waüdi "märchenhaftes Ungetüm
(Martin-Lienhart II, p. 790) and der woudi "der garstige, ungeschlachte" (Schmeller II, p. 861). In
Mecklenburg he is sometimes called the Waur.
123) The names Frô Gôde, Ver Gode a. s. o. very likely have no connection with the name of Othin, as
they belong to the same group as the Scandinavian names Góinn, Gói, Góa, Gjø, which Nils Lid has
tried to explain in his book p. 271 as "spirits of the earth" (*go = Gr. chthon).
[78]
124) Cf. the Dutch Tijdschrift voor Volkskunde XXXIV,
p. 140.
125) Cf. Hægstad, Maal og Minne 1912 p. 80-85.
126) See his edition of the saga p. 293.
127) See my paper on Ginnungagap in Acta Philologica Scandinavica V, p. 41-66.
128) Cf. Mannhardt, Germanische Mythen p. 262.
129) Cf. U. Holmberg, Finno-Ugric Mythology p. 177.
130) Cf. Handwörterbuch des deutschen Aberglaubens I, c. 588.
131) Cf. J. E. Harrison, Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion (Cambridge 1908) p. 68.
132) o. c. p. 206.
133) Wuttke-Meyer, Deutscher Volksaberglaube (4) p. 294.
134) Cf. Germanisch-Romanische Monatsschrift XVII, p. 413.
135) Cf. Celander, Nordisk Jul I, p. 31
136) Cf. Celander, Nordisk Jul I, p. 32 -- Nils Lid p. 6o ff considers these Yule-spirits as a
representation developed from original Yule processions, a view which I cannot fully approve. - The
name Hoe may of course mean Gói, the vegetation-spirit.
137) In the periodical Rig 1920 p. 168-176. In this paper he tries to prove that the Yule-sheaf which is
dedicated to the birds, was originally a sacrifice to Othin; the evidence, he adduces for his opinion,
however, is very slight and questionable. At any rate the fact that with the same intention in some parts
of Scandinavia corn is strewn for the geese, when they have alighted on the ground (Storaker,
Naturrigerne p. 223) makes it probable that in these rites the birds represent the spirits of the dead.
138) Cf. the following sentence, quoted by Celander p. 175: och ther aff pläghar man än-nu seya at the
tiena Odhenom, som många peningar och rijkedomar sammanslagga.
[79]
139) Cf. Hedenske Kultminder i norske Stedsnavne 1, p. 234.
140) The Juttish popular belief is, however, under the strong suspicion of being mainly due to an
influence from North Germany cf. Olrik, Dania VIII, p. 165.
141) E. Wigström, Folkdigtning p. 145.
142) Arwidsson Nr. 2. Cf. also the Faroese ballad CCF 14 where in st. C 64 appears Æsakongur and in
D 62 Nasagrái.
143) Cf. S. Bugge, Studier over de nordiske Gude- og Heltesagns Oprindelse I, p. 287 and especially R.
Th. Christiansen, Die finnischen and nordischen Varianten des zweiten Merseburgerspruches,
FFComm. Nr. 18, who defends with great acumen the opinion that this charm really goes back to a
Christian original. I do not accept, however, this conclusion, see my provisional remarks in Het
Sprookje (Brussels 1929) P. 128.
144) Cf. Aminson, Bidrag etc. IV, p. 74
145) To an analogous conclusion Kaarle Krohn has come in his Skandinavisk Mytologi p. 87 ff; if he
extends his doubt to the reliability of the Swedish popular traditions about Othin in general, he goes, in
my opinion, too far (see note 3).