Gram, the son of Skiold, and the fifth king, was endowed with equal strength and equal enterprise, and his life was more romantic. His first consort was the daughter of his tutor or governor, a grim old chief; but thinking this lady beneath him, or, more probably, anxious to reward his brother in arms, Bessus, he soon bestowed her upon that hero. The dearer the gift, the greater the merit of the action; nor are similar instances of liberality wanting in other pagan heroes of the north. Probably Gram undervalued a conquest so easy as the wife he thus presented to his friend; and his ambition was roused by the hope of obtaining a lady whom nothing short of the highest courage could win. Gro, the daughter of Sigtrug, king of the Swedes, had been affianced to a giant, viz., a Jute or a Finn. Indignant at this prostitution of royal blood and virgin modesty, the Danish monarch, attended by his never-failing companion, Bessus, passed into Sweden, killed the relatives of Gro, subdued the country, and brought away the princess in triumph.[[16]] But, with all his valour, Gram was inconstant. Leading his army against the king of the Finns, he was so struck with the beauty of that monarch’s daughter, that he was speedily converted from an enemy into a suitor; and he obtained a promise of her hand on the condition of repudiating Gro. Scarcely, however, had he left the Finnish territory, when a Saxon duke arrived, courted the lady, and the nuptial day was appointed. But he was not of a temper to bear this insult. Leaving his troops, he repaired silently and quickly into Finland, assumed a mean disguise, entered the royal palace, and took a humble seat. Being asked what brought him there, he replied, his profession as leech—a character held sacred in all ancient communities, and sure of access to every house. As he had expected, the assembled guests were soon steeped in drunkenness. According to the manner of the times, he sung his own exploits, beheaded the unsuspecting bridegroom, prostrated many of the attendants to the earth, and bore away the princess to his vessel, which awaited him on the coast. But his end was fatal. By Swibdager, king of Norway, he was deprived of empire and of life; his dominions became the prize of the victor; and his two infant sons, Guthrum and Hadding, were secretly carried to Sweden, and confided to the charge of two giants.[[17]]

Here Saxo is careful to explain what he means by the word giant. There were, he assures us, three species. First, there were the vulgar giants; those who excelled all mankind in bodily stature. Next, were the wise men, who were as much inferior to the former in bulk, as they were superior in knowledge: these penetrated into the secret workings of nature, and were enemies of the monster giants, whom they subdued. Like the Persian magi, they struggled for, and obtained, the chief power of the state wherever they settled, and arrogated to themselves a divine, no less than a regal, authority; in short, they were expert magicians, able to delude all mankind by their prestiges. Next, we have the third class of giants, who were the offspring of the two preceding, and were inferior to one parent in magnitude of body, to the other in knowledge; yet, in both respects, they were above the ordinary standard of our nature, and were thought, by their deluded admirers, to inherit some portion of divinity. After this sage distinction, the Danish ecclesiastic observes, that we ought not to be surprised at the credulity of the northmen, for were not the Romans, though the wisest of men, equally credulous? Whatever may be thought of that distinction, or of the personages whom he has drawn from everlasting obscurity, of the existence of this credulity we have abundant evidence; and it furnishes one of the best comments on the manners and opinions of the times.[[18]]

Swibdager, the conqueror of Gram, and the sixth king of Denmark, found the weight of three crowns too much for one brow. At the entreaty, therefore, of Gro, the divorced queen of Gram, he recalled her son Guthrum from exile, and placed him, as a vassal, on the throne. This prince was naturally despised as the slave of a foreign prince. Not so his brother Hadding, who, preferring liberty to a dependent court, and the hope of avenging his father’s death to the smiles of that father’s murderer, remained in exile, and with him were the hearts of Denmark. Of all the ancient heroes of the monarchy, this is, perhaps, the most celebrated. Wondrous, indeed, were his actions. While a youth, he inflamed the heart of Hardgrip, the giant daughter of his giant foster-father, who urged him to make a corresponding return. How could he love a giantess? Was he—whom she could, almost, inclose in one of her hands—a fit match for her? The thing was impossible. “By no means,” was the reply. “We of the superhuman breed can change, at pleasure, our forms, and even our substances; in short, we can reach the clouds, or reduce ourselves to your size.” The royal youth consented; and never had man a more useful or more faithful companion. Her magical knowledge was of more avail to him than her valour, for in that he could equal her; but she could furnish him with superior weapons, defend him from unseen danger, and cure his wounds where human aid would have been useless. At length, perceiving that he yearned to revisit his native country, she resolved to accompany him. On their journey, they one night arrived at a house where a corpse was duly laid out, until the mournful funeral rites were celebrated. Here was an opportunity of consulting the will of the gods, and the magic giantess availed herself of it. Producing a piece of wood on which certain verses of might, in Runic characters, were inscribed[[19]], she caused it to be placed under the tongue of the deceased by Hadding. The effect was instantaneous: the corpse began to speak, and to utter the direst anathemas on her who had disturbed the repose of the dead. It predicted her immediate destruction in a neighbouring wood. No sooner, indeed, had they reached the wood, and erected their tent for the night, than a huge hand was seen to move around them. The terrified Hadding called on his companion for help; and she, dilating her body to a great extent, was able to seize the hand, and present it for amputation to the prince. From the wound issued more venom than blood. But the victory was dearly purchased; the gigantic witch was torn to pieces by the irritated powers of darkness. “Neither her supernatural condition,” says Saxo, “nor her vast bulk, availed her.” Hadding, however, did not much suffer by the event: a wise old man with one eye, pitying his disconsolate situation, provided him with a brother in arms, a celebrated pirate, and both entered into what was considered the holiest of compacts in the manner of the times, viz., each besmeared the footsteps of the other with his own blood. The two heroes being conquered by a chief on whom they made war, the same old man took Hadding on horseback to his own mysterious seat, and both renovated and prodigiously fortified him by a magic drink. At the same time a metrical prophecy told him how he was to escape from the captivity which impended over him. Who was this unknown benefactor? On his return to the place whence he was taken, he could perceive, through the folds of his mantle, that he was conveyed over the sea. The horse which bore him was evidently a demon, obedient to Odin, the god of the north.[[20]]

After some great exploits in the east, to which his ardour, no less than his fear of Swibdager, bore him, Hadding returned to Scandinavia. In a sea-fight he defeated and slew his enemy, and thus became sovereign of Denmark, or, we should say, of the Danish islands,—for Jutland and Scania obeyed different princes. Asmund, the son of Swibdager, he thus transformed into a foe, and a foe, too, greatly to be dreaded. In a battle which ensued, finding that the tide of success was against him, he silently invoked the aid of the wizard giant Wagnoft, the father of his deceased mistress, Hardgrip. Wagnoft obeyed the spell, and was immediately by his side. Asmund lost the battle, and fell; but in his last moments he had the satisfaction of knowing that he had rendered Hadding lame for life. And he had another kind of joy, dear enough to a pagan: his wife Gunhilda, disdaining to survive him, slew herself with his sword, and was laid in the same grave with him. An invasion of his own country by Uffo, the son of Asmund, prevented Hadding from pursuing his advantage; but the following spring he again invaded Sweden; but his ranks were thinned, alike, by famine and disease. His men were obliged to feed on their horses; next, on their dogs; and, lastly, on each other. To increase their consternation, a nocturnal voice assured them of great evils. The following night, even, another unknown voice threatened the Swedes with destruction. Both armies, therefore, were alarmed; each had a supernatural enemy, while each was perhaps unconscious that it had, also, a supernatural friend. That same night the two armies engaged; when, behold! two aged men, of a form larger than the human, were seen by the light of the stars in the battle,—one for the Swedes, the other for the Danes. The latter were subdued, and their king glad to flee to his own country. But misfortune pursued him. One day, as he was cooling his limbs in the waters of the sea, he perceived a fish different from any that he had ever seen; as it was near the shore, he killed it, and it was taken to his camp. But what was his consternation when a sea-nymph appeared, and denounced direct vengeance on his head! He had killed one of the gods under the form of a fish. Henceforth the elements should be hostile to him; if he ventured on the deep, his vessel should be wrecked by the fury of the tempest; on land, the house which received him should, by a tempest, also be levelled with the ground; his flocks should perish in the fields; every place which he visited should be cursed for his sake: and this dreadful doom was to remain in force until he had propitiated the divine wrath by frequent sacrifices. The mandate was not to be despised; during the course of a year altars perpetually smoked with oxen immolated to Fro, the awful deity of the winds.[[21]]

The life of Hadding was full of portents and marvels. Scarcely had he rescued the princess Regnilda of Norway from the obligation of marrying a giant, by killing the monster, and making her his bride, than a most wonderful adventure befell him. One winter evening, as he was supping with his bride, a woman like a culler of simples was seen to raise her head from the ground close by the hearth, and inquired whether the king did not wish to know where such herbs grew at that season of the year. He replied, that he should very much wish to know. Hearing this, she enveloped him in his own mantle, and sank with him into the ground. What they saw in this subterranean journey bears some resemblance to the descriptions which have been given us of the Scandinavian world of spirits. They first entered a dark path, worn out by the feet of many travellers, and here they perceived some great ones of the earth,—some in purple and gold,—whose doom appeared to consist in their indefinite windings. Passing them, they entered a region of some fertility, whence the woman had derived her simples. Farther still, they reached a river of precipitate course and black waters, which rolled along the weapons of many heroes, and over which a bridge conducted them to a different region. One of the first objects that met their eyes was two armies engaged in deadly strife. “Who are these?” demanded Hadding. “These,” replied the sorceress, “are they who fell in battle; and it is their delight in this world continually to imitate their martial deeds in the other.” At length they reached a high wall, totally impassable. The woman, indeed, made no attempt to scale it; but, twisting off the head of a cock which she had brought with her, she threw it over; when, behold! the cock began to crow as if nothing had been done to it! Unable to proceed further, the adventurous travellers returned to the palace.[[22]]

The rest of this monarch’s life must be hastily despatched. He triumphed over Uffo, who fell in battle, and bestowed the vacant throne of Sweden on Hunding, brother of the deceased monarch. His last days were embittered by the unnatural conduct of his daughter Ulwilda, who, with her husband, planned his destruction. Though he escaped all the snares of his enemies, at length he laid violent hands upon himself, leaving the throne of Denmark, and the superiority over that of Sweden, to his eldest son, Frode I.[[23]]

Frode I. was also a great warrior, and he carried his depredations from Russia to the British islands, on which, unfortunately for the natives, he made a longer stay than kings, whose sole object was plunder, were accustomed to make. If there were any truth in the Danish account of this period, Scotland and South Britain were in frequent intercourse with the northern kingdom,—sometimes for war and sometimes for peace. But these accounts are all to be distrusted. Events which happened at a much later period have been removed to the one before us; and the basis has been so much overlaid by fable, that no ingenuity can separate the true from the false.—When Frode commenced his reign, he found the treasury empty. How replenish it? By an expedient frequently to be found in Scandinavian legends. On a solitary island, a dragon, formidable alike for size and venom, brooded over immense riches. The youthful monarch hastened to the spot, entered the cave, fought and killed the serpent, and brought away the golden hoard. Whether there be any meaning in this and similar fables has been much disputed: probably, however, it had a foundation, and the dragon may have been some terrible pirate whom Frode destroyed, and whose subterraneous riches he seized. This unexpected supply, we are told, enabled him to pursue his expeditions on various coasts of Europe. But we have no inclination to follow him. We may, however, allude to the way in which he gained possession of London; because the same expedient is often to be found in northern writers. Despairing of the reduction of a place so well defended, he caused a report to be spread that he had suddenly died in his tent. Permission was asked to bury him in one of the temples of the city, and was granted. On the day appointed, the pretended corpse was borne through the gates; a great number of Danes attended to do honour to their monarch; but, under the garb of mourning, they hid their weapons of war; and, on a signal being given, they threw off the mockery of woe, assailed the Britons, and took the city by surprise.[[24]]

Of the immediate successors of this monarch little is known. Haldan, his son, was a great warrior, who put his own brother to death, and was hated by the people. Roe, the son of Haldan, was a quiet prince, mean in stature, but with a mind whose care it was to make his subjects happy. Helge[[25]], his brother and successor, with whom, during his own life, he had shared the throne, was also a prince of great qualities; but his vices were still greater. “Whether his lust or his tyranny were more intolerable,” says the historian, “is very doubtful.” His amours are too disgusting to be recorded. At length, seeing the execration in which he was held, he bade adieu to his country; and it proved a final adieu. According to report, he fell on his own sword. In the reigns of these princes, we have no mention of the Norwegian sovereigns; but those of Sweden—let us not forget that it is a Dane who writes—are represented as still dependent on Denmark.[[26]] Rolf (or Rollo) succeeded his father, and was much beloved by his subjects.[[27]] He fell through the treachery of a brother-in-law, who was excited to the deed by the sister of Rolf. Daughters conspiring against fathers, sisters against brothers, wives against husbands, are among the common events of Scandinavian history. As this prince died without issue, the Danish states elected for their monarch Hoder, a descendant of the famous Hadding, who had been educated by Gewar, a king of Norway. As it is in the reign of this latter monarch that Odin is again introduced on the stage of northern history,—his first appearance being referred by Saxo to the time of Hadding,—we can no longer refuse to notice what antiquity records with respect to him. In this, as in other parts of this introduction, the reader may admit or reject what he pleases.[[28]]

According to Saxo, this personage was a mortal, king of the Hellespont, who laid claim to the honours of divinity, and was actually worshipped by most of Europe. His profound knowledge of magic procured him the character. His ordinary residence was Byzantium; but he held Upsal, which he frequently visited, in much esteem. Anxious to testify their respect for this new deity, the kings of the north cast a golden statue in his honour, adorned it with bracelets and other costly ornaments, and sent it to Byzantium. It was received by Odin with great joy, and placed in the temple of the gods. But Frigga, the wife of Odin, whom Saxo judges to be quite worthy of such a husband, stript the statue of its ornaments to adorn herself. The incensed deity hung the mechanics who acted by her orders; and, for greater security, placed the image on a high pedestal, and, by his wonderful art, rendered it vocal to human touch. But when was female vanity cured? To secure the aid of a domestic of the temple, Frigga did not hesitate to grant him the last favour; and, by his aid, the gold being again abstracted, again adorned her person. This twofold injury was too much for a god to withstand; and Odin left the country for a season, until the public discourse, like a nine days’ wonder, had evaporated itself into empty air. During his absence, several persons—probably priests of his own temple—arrogated to themselves the attributes of divinity. These, on his return, he forced not only to lay down their borrowed honours, but to flee from the country. Among them, one is mentioned whose case affords a curious illustration of popular superstition. Mitothin was a great magician, and had long enjoyed the favour of the gods. But they were incensed with his impiety, while he no longer paid them the slightest homage. On the return of Odin he fled to Fionia, and was killed by the inhabitants. In his tomb, however, he was amply revenged: he introduced into the whole region various kinds of plague; he destroyed multitudes of the inhabitants; until they, one day, opened his sepulchre, exhumed his body, cut off his head, and drove a stake through the corpse: then the mysterious visitation was at an end. He is, probably, the first vampire on record.[[29]]

The account of Snorro Sturleson, who followed Norwegian, not Danish authorities, differs in many respects from the preceding. He informs us that the seat of Odin’s power, both temporal and spiritual, was Asgard, a place of extraordinary sanctity east of the Tanais. Over the temple were twelve pontiffs, whose duty was the twofold one of sacrificing and administering the laws: they were called driar or drottnar,—lords,—and were held in much veneration. At the head of this theocratic state was Odin, who was at perpetual war with his neighbours, and on whose arms success always shone. So great, indeed, was this success, that he was called the father of victory. When he sent out his generals on any expedition, he was accustomed to lay his hands on their heads and predict a fortunate issue to the undertaking. Hence the peculiar veneration attached to his character. His followers regarded him as a god; in dangers and perils of any kind—on land, on deep—whether he were present or absent—they invoked his name, and ascribed all their prosperity to him. His expeditions, even to remote countries, were frequent; and during his absence the sovereignty was administered by his two brothers. The Vanir, who are said to have been his neighbours, he so harassed, that they sued for peace: the conditions were framed, and hostages given for their punctual observance. Niord the Rich, and Freyr his son, were surrendered by the Vanir; Haenir and Mimir by the Asser. In a short time, however, the former perceiving that their confidence was abused by the hostages of Odin, cut off the head of Mimir and sent it to Asgard. By his magic art, Odin so enchanted the head that it became his oracle: it conversed with him whenever he pleased, and acquainted him with many hidden things, both of nature and of fate. Niord and Freyr, he won over to his own interests by investing them with the dignity of the priesthood, and, consequently, with some portion of divinity. The same honours were conferred on Freya, the sister of Freyr who taught the Asser the magic which she had learned among her countrymen, the Vanir.—At length, the victorious arms of the Romans approached the kingdom of Asheim; and Odin, learning from the fates that settlements were provided for him in the north of Europe, left his two brothers with the sovereignty of Asheim, and, attended by a great multitude of followers, advanced into the west. In his progress through Germany he placed his sons over the states which his arms reduced. He then passed northward, and fixed his seat at Odensey (Odin’s Island). From thence he despatched Gefio, one of his prophetesses, to make proselytes in the neighbouring regions; and she was well received by both Gylfe, king of Sweden, and by the Jutes. They did not, indeed, embrace her religious faith; but they gave her lands and revered her as one of the chief supports of magic. In the sequel she married Skiold, the son of Odin, who reigned over the Danish islands. Odin, himself, advanced into Sweden, and forced Gylfe to cede to him the eastern part of that kingdom. He established his seat at Sigtuna, where he caused temples to be erected and sacrifices to be offered. Thence his authority and his worship were diffused throughout Germany and Scandinavia.[[30]]