The Younger Edda; Also called Snorre's Edda, or The Prose Edda

by Snorri Sturluson

CHAPTER VI.

In reference to Ygdrasil, we refer our readers to Norse Mythology, pp. 205-211, and to Thomas Carlyle’s Heroes and Hero-worship.

A connection between the norns Urd, Verdande and Skuld and the weird sisters in Shakspeare’s Macbeth has long since been recognized; but new light has recently been thrown upon the subject by the philosopher Karl Blind, who has contributed valuable articles on the subject in the German periodical “Die Gegenwart” and in the “London Academy.” We take the liberty of reproducing here an abstract of his article in the “Academy”:

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The fact itself of these Witches being simply transfigurations, or later disguises, of the Teutonic Norns is fully established—as may be seen from Grimm or Simrock. In delineating these hags, Shakspeare has practically drawn upon old Germanic sources, perhaps upon current folk-lore of his time.

It has always struck me as noteworthy that in the greater part of the scene between the Weird Sisters, Macbeth and Banquo, and wherever the Witches come in, Shakspeare uses the staff-rime in a remarkable manner. Not only does this add powerfully to the archaic impressiveness and awe, but it also seems to bring the form and figure of the Sisters of Fate more closely within the circle of the Teutonic idea. I have pointed out this striking use of the alliterative system in Macbeth in an article on “An old German Poem and a Vedic Hymn,” which appeared in Fraser in June, 1877, and in which the derivation of the Weird Sisters from the Germanic Norns is mentioned.

The very first scene in the first act of Macbeth opens strongly with the staff-rime:

1st Witch. When shall we three meet again—
In thunder, lightning or in rain?

2d Witch. When the hurly-burly’s done,
When the battle’s lost and won.

3d Witch. That will be ere set of sun.

1st Witch. Where the place?

2d Witch.Upon the heath.

3d Witch. There to meet with Macbeth.

1st Witch. I come, Graymalkin!

All. Paddock calls. Anon.
Fair is foul, and foul is fair.
Hover through the fog and filthy air.

Not less marked is the adoption of the fullest staff-rime—together (as above) with the end-rime—in the third scene, when the Weird Sisters speak. Again, there is the staff-rime when Banquo addresses them. Again, the strongest alliteration, combined with the end-rime, runs all through the Witches’ spell-song in Act iv, scene 1. This feature in Shakspeare appears to me to merit closer investigation; all the more so because a less regular alliteration, but still a marked one, is found in not a few passages of a number of his plays. Only one further instance of the systematic employment of alliteration may here be noted in passing. It is in Ariel’s songs in the Tempest, Act i, scene 2. Schlegel and Tieck evidently did not observe this alliterative peculiarity. Their otherwise excellent translation does not render it, except so far as the obvious similarity of certain English and German words involuntarily made them do so. But in the notes to their version of Macbeth the character of the Weird Sisters is also misunderstood, though Warburton is referred to, who had already suggested their derivations from the Valkyrs or Norns.

It is an error to say that the Witches in Macbeth “are never called witches” (compare Act i, scene 3: “‘Give me!’ quoth I. ‘A-roint thee, witch!’ the rump-fed ronyon cries”). However, their designation as Weird Sisters fully settles the case of their Germanic origin.

This name “Weird” is derived from the Anglo-Saxon Norn Wyrd (Sax. Wurth; O. H. Ger. Wurd; Norse, Urd), who represents the Past, as her very name shows. Wurd is die Gewordene—the “Has Been,” or rather the “Has Become,” if one could say so in English.

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In Shakspeare the Witches are three in number—even as in Norse, German, as well as in Keltic and other mythologies. Urd, properly speaking, is the Past. Skuld is the Future, or “That Which shall Be.” Verdandi, usually translated as the Present, has an even deeper meaning. Her name is not to be derived from vera (to be), but from verda (Ger. werden). This verb, which has a mixed meaning of “to be,” “to become,” or to “grow,” has been lost in English. Verdandi is, therefore, not merely a representative of present Being, but of the process of Growing, or of Evolution—which gives her figure a profounder aspect. Indeed, there is generally more significance in mythological tales than those imagine who look upon them chiefly as a barren play of fancy.

Incidentally it may be remarked that, though Shakspeare’s Weird Sisters are three in number—corresponding to Urd, Verdandi and Skuld—German and Northern mythology and folk-lore occasionally speak of twelve or seven of them. In the German tale of Dornröschen, or the Sleeping Beauty, there are twelve good fays; and a thirteenth, who works the evil spell. Once, in German folk-lore, we meet with but two Sisters of Fate—one of them called Kann, the other Muss. Perhaps these are representatives of man’s measure of free will (that which he “can”), and of that which is his inevitable fate—or, that which he “must” do.

Though the word “Norn” has been lost in England and Germany, it is possibly preserved in a German folk-lore ditty, which speaks of three Sisters of Fate as “Nuns.” Altogether, German folk-lore is still full of rimes about three Weird Sisters. They are sometimes called Wild Women, or Wise Women, or the Measurers (Metten)—namely, of Fate; or, euphemistically, like the Eumenides, the Advisers of Welfare (Heil-Räthinnen), reminding us of the counsels given to Macbeth in the apparition scene; or the Quick Judges (Gach-Schepfen). Even as in the Edda, these German fays weave and twist threads or ropes, and attach them to distant parts, thus fixing the weft of Fate. One of these fays is sometimes called Held, and described as black, or as half dark half white—like Hel, the Mistress of the Nether World. That German fay is also called Rachel, clearly a contraction of Rach-Hel, i.e. the Avengeress Hel.

Now, in Macbeth also the Weird Sisters are described as “black.” The coming up of Hekate with them in the cave-scene might not unfitly be looked upon as a parallel with the German Held, or Rach-Hel, and the Norse Hel; these Teutonic deities being originally Goddesses of Nocturnal Darkness, and of the Nether World, even as Hekate.

In German folk-lore, three Sisters of Fate bear the names of Wilbet, Worbet and Ainbet. Etymologically these names seem to refer to the well-disposed nature of a fay representing the Past; to the warring or worrying troubles of the Present; and to the terrors (Ain = Agin) of the Future. All over southern Germany, from Austria to Alsace and Rhenish Hesse, the three fays are known under various names besides Wilbet, Worbet, and Ainbet—for instance, as Mechtild, Ottilia, and Gertraud; as Irmina, Adela, and Chlothildis, and so forth. The fay in the middle of this trio is always a good fay, a white fay—but blind. Her treasure (the very names of Ottilia and Adela point to a treasure) is continually being taken from her by the third fay, a dark and evil one, as well as by the first. This myth has been interpreted as meaning that the Present, being blinded as to its own existence, is continually being encroached upon, robbed as it were, by the dark Future and the Past. Of this particular trait there is no vestige in Shakspeare’s Weird Sisters. They, like the Norns, “go hand in hand.” But there is another point which claims attention Shakspeare’s Witches are bearded. (“You should be women, and yet your beards forbid me to interpret that you are so.” Act i, scene 3.)

It need scarcely be brought to recollection that a commingling of the female and male character occurs in the divine and semi-divine figures of various mythological systems—including the Bearded Venus. Of decisive importance is, however, the fact of a bearded Weird Sister having apparently been believed in by our heathen German forefathers.

Near Wessobrunn, in Upper Bavaria, where the semi-heathen fragment of a cosmogonic lay, known as “Wessobrunn Prayer,” was discovered, there has also been found, of late, a rudely-sculptured three-headed image. It is looked upon as an ancient effigy of the German Norns. The Cloister of the three Holy Bournes, or Fountains, which stands close by the place of discovery, is supposed to have been set up on ground that had once served for pagan worship. Probably the later monkish establishment of the Three Holy Bournes had taken the place of a similarly named heathen sanctuary where the three Sisters of Fate were once adored. Indeed, the name of all the corresponding fays in yet current German folk-lore is connected with holy wells. This quite fits in with the three Eddic Bournes near the great Tree of Existence, at one of which—apparently at the oldest, which is the very Source of Being—the Norns live, “the maidens that over the Sea of Age travel in deep foreknowledge,” and of whom it is said that:

They laid the lots, they ruled the life
To the sons of men, their fate foretelling.

Now, curiously enough, the central head of the slab found near Wessobrunn, in the neighborhood of the Cloister of the Three Holy Bournes, is bearded. This has puzzled our archæologists. Some of them fancied that what appears to be a beard might after all be the hair of one of the fays or Norns, tied round the chin. By the light of the description of the Weird Sisters in Shakspeare’s Macbeth we, however, see at once the true connection.

In every respect, therefore, his “Witches” are an echo from the ancient Germanic creed—an echo, moreover, coming to us in the oldest Teutonic verse-form; that is, in the staff-rime.

Karl Blind.

Elves. The elves of later times seem a sort of middle thing between the light and dark elves. They are fair and lively, but also bad and mischievous. In some parts of Norway the peasants describe them as diminutive naked boys with hats on. Traces of their dance are sometimes to be seen on the wet grass, especially on the banks of rivers. Their exhalation is injurious, and is called alfgust or elfblæst, causing a swelling, which is easily contracted by too nearly approaching places where they have spat, etc. They have a predilection for certain spots, but particularly for large trees, which on that account the owners do not venture to meddle with, but look on them as something sacred, on which the weal or woe of the place depends. Certain diseases among their cattle are attributed to the elves, and are, therefore, called elf-fire or elf-shot. The dark elves are often confounded with the dwarfs, with whom they, indeed, seem identical, although they are distinguished in Odin’s Raven’s Song. The Norwegians also make a distinction between dwarfs and elves, believing the former to live solitary and in quiet, while the latter love music and dancing. (Faye, p. 48; quoted by Thorpe.)

The fairies of Scotland are precisely identical with the above. They are described as a diminutive race of beings of a mixed or rather dubious nature, capricious in their dispositions and mischievous in their resentment. They inhabit the interior of green hills, chiefly those of a conical form, in Gaelic termed Sighan, on which they lead their dances by moonlight; impressing upon the surface the marks of circles, which sometimes appear yellow and blasted, sometimes of a deep green hue, and within which it is dangerous to sleep, or to be found after sunset. Cattle which are suddenly seized with the cramp, or some similar disorder, are said to be elf-shot. (Scott’s Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border; quoted by Thorpe.)

Of the Swedish elves, Arndt gives the following sketch: Of giants, of dwarfs, of the alp, of dragons, that keep watch over treasures, they have the usual stories; nor are the kindly elves forgotten. How often has my postillion, when he observed a circular mark in the dewy grass, exclaimed: See! there the elves have been dancing. These elf-dances play a great part in the spinning-room. To those who at midnight happen to enter one of these circles, the elves become visible, and may then play all kinds of pranks with them; though in general they are little, merry, harmless beings, both male and female. They often sit in small stones, that are hollowed out in circular form, and which are called elf-querns or mill-stones. Their voice is said to be soft like the air. If a loud cry is heard in the forest, it is that of the Skogsrå (spirit of the wood), which should be answered only by a He! when it can do no harm. (Reise durch Sweden; quoted by Thorpe.)

The elf-shot was known in England in very remote times, as appears from the Anglo-Saxon incantation, printed by Grimm in his Deutsche Mythologie, and in the appendix to Kemble’s Saxons in England: Gif hit wœre esa gescot oððe hit wœre ylfa gescot; that is, if it were an asa-shot or an elf-shot. On this subject Grimm says: It is a very old belief that dangerous arrows were shot by the elves from the air. The thunder-bolt is also called elf-shot, and in Scotland a hard, sharp, wedge-shaped stone is known by the name of elf-arrow, elf-flint, elf-bolt, which, it is supposed, has been sent by the spirits. (Quoted by Thorpe.)