Cousin-hunting in Scandinavia

by Mary Wilhelmine Williams

Thanks also to the fact that the ancient Scandinavians were careful to supply their dead with the necessaries and luxuries of the time, in order that the departed ones might live in comfort beyond the Great Divide, I was able to learn something about their knowledge of the decencies of life. For instance, I found that “in the flesh” they used horn combs, and that they expected to use them beyond the Divide. It is such a comfort not to have to picture them with matted, tangled locks!

But by the Later Bronze Age the Scandinavians had become sufficiently advanced to burn their dead; consequently, the graves of this period throw less light upon their costumes and habits. The bronze articles, however, which the fire could not harm, show the same perfection of workmanship and the artistic beauty which one would expect to find in the descendants of the people of the Scandinavian New Stone Age. And like this age also, the Bronze Age was prolonged in Scandinavia; iron did not come into general use until four or five centuries before Christ; hence, the Scandinavians again had time for the practice which makes perfect.

In the exciting days of the later time when the piratical raids of the Vikings caused the nations to the south to pray “Protect us, O Lord, from the fury of the Northmen!” simple burial was again introduced, but cremation was not completely abandoned. The return to the more primitive method of disposing of the dead was, I suppose, due to imitation of Christian practice; for Christian observances had a strong modifying influence in Scandinavia long before Christianity itself was adopted there. It was undoubtedly imitation of their Christian neighbors which led the Scandinavians of the late Viking period to engrave runic inscriptions upon the previously bare stones erected over the graves of the dead. But in the epitaphs the spirit of the departed was commended to the protection of the warlike Thor, who was at that time the favorite god of the North, and not to the gentle Christ. Such heathen grave stones are found in abundance in the museum. Another Christian practice which got the attention of the Scandinavians was the wearing of the cross and the crucifix as emblems or charms; in the pagan North this custom seems to have produced an enthusiasm for Thor’s hammers, which were worked into ornamental patterns in jewelry and were also worn about the neck in the form of little silver pendants.

Upon my first visit to the National Museum, I decided that I should like to take photographs of a few of the objects there. An American gentleman residing in Copenhagen whom I consulted about the matter intimated that it was very doubtful whether I would be permitted to use a camera in the building; and he advised me to repeat my request through the American minister to Copenhagen, if the powers at the museum remained obdurate after I had personally approached them upon the subject. In consequence of this hint of coming difficulty, I armed myself with all of the documents in my possession calculated to prove me a responsible and respectable person, and set forth. At the museum I asked to see the director, and was promptly piloted by a guard through what seemed an endless series of corridors and passageways to the office of the Formidable One. I expected to see a Dane of grim appearance, curt manners, and an iron jaw. But the Herr Direcktor was far from that; he was a mild, absent-minded, somewhat frowsy-looking gentleman who would scarcely frighten a mouse. In spite of my surprise and relief, I preserved sufficient presence of mind to blurt out my request, at the same time placing my letters of introduction, passport and diplomas in a jumbled heap upon the table before him.

The Power behind the National Museum gazed blankly and absent-mindedly at the pile of documents for a few seconds, and then asked, “What are those papers?”

“They are my credentials,” said I.

“Credentials? I do not care to see your credentials,” said he. “Take all the pictures you want.”

And I did. Wasn’t the Herr Direcktor a nice man?

I have since learned that the Scandinavian people are surprisingly generous and helpful toward all serious students who come to their land for the purpose of working in their libraries and museums. They are honest themselves and expect honest treatment from others, and generally receive it, too, I think, else they would hardly continue their liberal policy.

But I fear that I may have bored you with my ramblings in archæological fields, haunted by the ghosts of ancient heathen Scandinavians. By way of variety, you might like to hear about my visit to “Runde Taarn” (the Round Tower), which is above ground, and modern and of Christian construction. No pun was intended, but it happens that the tower was really built by Christian IV of Denmark, who lived in the early part of the seventeenth century. It was originally erected for an astronomical observatory and—together with an important library—was connected with a church, built at the same time, which was given the doubly significant name, Church of the Trinity.