"Césars li emperères l'ot maint jor en demagne,
Engleterre en conquist, Angou et Alemagne,
Et France et Normendie, Saisone et Aquitaigne,
Et Puille et Hungerie, Provence et Moriaigne."[258]
If this idea stood alone, or was conceived in the simple spirit of the Scandinavian Vœlund-Chaunt, we might imagine it to be designed as a symbolic myth representing the advent of the Iron Period and its irresistible progress over the north; but the general spirit of the romance is characterized by the usual extravagance of medieval poetry.
The Greeks assigned to the history of Dædalus a very high antiquity, carrying him back to somewhere about the thirteenth century before the Christian era; but it may admit of doubt if Greece had then passed her own primitive stage. Among the relics of the European Stone Period preserved in the Museum of the Scottish Antiquaries are some small flint-flakes and arrow-heads, gathered on the elevated mound of the tomb of the Plateans at Marathon, which it will not greatly outrage the ideas of the critical historian to assume as weapons used by the Greek patriots in repelling the Persian invader. At first the word Dædalus was, among the Greeks, like that of Weland among the Scandinavians, a generic name. Δαιδαλλω signified to work artistically, as Voelundr signified a smith in Islandic; and Dædalus was, like Weland, pre-eminently the artist and the workman. The word became a proper name only because of their attributing to this mythological being all the perfections of the art. For this reason also, it appears equally erroneous to regard the Islandic word voelund, a smith, as derived from Weland: it is the contrary that should be assumed. The word voelund existed before the history of the famous smith Weland had been invented, just as the word δαιδαλλω existed before the personification Dædalus had been adopted into the mythology of the Greeks.[259] This is no new idea. It was obviously from a recognition of it that King Alfred, when translating the De Consolatione Philosophiæ of Boethius into Anglo-Saxon, used the name of the northern Weland as synonymous with Fabricius. Mr. Singer has employed the Greek fable of Dædalus to restore the connexion of the arts of the north with the elder civilisation of Europe, and Dr. Sickler has applied the same classic legend with great ingenuity in his argument of the Phœnician origin of the Greek metallurgic arts.[260] Whencesoever that knowledge may have been immediately derived, we shall adopt the most consistent idea if we turn back to the Eastern cradle-land both of the Hellenic and Scandinavian races, and assume a common origin for the mythic fable which records with corresponding symbolic legends the restoration of the art of Tubal-Cain to the postdiluvian race.
It is a remarkable and interesting fact, that while modern learning and research have brought to light the most ancient literate forms of this northern myth, in the Edda and the Niebelungen Lied, it is in England only that it has survived to our own day as a living popular tradition; and it is due to the somewhat grotesque travesty of its rude Berkshire version inwrought into the tragic tale of Kenilworth, that it has been restored to the favour of modern Europe. Among the old Scandinavian nations, and in Iceland, where the language of their runic literature is still a living tongue, as well as in France, and throughout the whole Germanic races of the Continent, all memory of the restoration of this divine gift of the metals has utterly passed away. In England only—towards which we see the galleys of the elder inheritors of civilisation winging their way in quest of its metallic treasures with the first glimpse we catch of it as it emerges out of the night of time—the mythic legend has retained vitality till now. How the story of our northern Dædalus came to be associated with the monolithic group at the foot of White-Horse Hill, in the vale of Berkshire, it is now equally vain and useless to inquire. There, according to rustic folk-lore, dwelt the invisible smith. No one ever saw him; but he who had the courage to avail himself of his skill had only to deposit a piece of money on one of the stones, and leave his horse beside it. On his return the horse was found to be shod, and the money gone. Such was the last shadowy tradition of the venerable myth. On one of the rarer coins of Cunobeline an armourer or coiner is represented. Some numismatists have supposed it to be Vulcan forging a helmet.
May it not more probably be assumed as the northern Weland, whose metallurgic skill was so widely celebrated among the Teutonic nations? Before the great Alfred had won his way to the English throne the symbolic impersonation had assumed a perfect individuality; and in the translation of the De Consolatione Philosophiæ into Anglo-Saxon, he thus paraphrases the passage,—Ubi nunc fidelis ossa Fabricii manent? Quid Brutus, aut rigidus Cato?
"Where are now the bones
Of the wise Weland,
The goldsmith
Formerly most famous?
* * * * * * *
Who knows now the bones
Of the wise Weland,
Under what mound (or barrow)
They are concealed?"[261]
If little importance be due to the association of Weland's name with the working in iron, not very much more is to be ascribed to the no less frequent depiction of him as a cunning jeweller and goldsmith. Nevertheless, the circumstance is worthy of notice in passing, since it is not impossible that the working in gold may have preceded even the age of bronze, and in reality have belonged, as already hinted, to the Stone Period. If metal could be found capable of being wrought and fashioned without smelting or moulding, its use was perfectly compatible with the simple arts of the Stone Period. Of such use masses of native gold, such as have been often found both in the Old and the New World, are peculiarly susceptible; and some of the examples of Scottish gold personal ornaments fully correspond with the probable results of such an anticipatory use of the metals. One very remarkable example, more particularly referred to hereafter, occurs in a pair of armillæ of pure gold, found in an urn of the rudest and most artless construction in a cist in Banffshire. They are merely hammered into rounded bars and then bent to fit the arm, and they retain the rough marks of the tool, which it is more easy to imagine one of stone than any more delicate or artificial implement. It is not impossible that it may be owing to some faint traditional remembrance of this primitive origin of the working of metals, that the oldest notices of Weland represent him chiefly as the cunning goldsmith, as in the fifth stanza of the Vœlundar Quida of the Edda:—
"Vœlund alone remained in Ulfdale,
He wrought red gold, with jewells rare,
Securing on a withy rings many."
So it is in all the earliest existing forms of this ancient myth, the working in iron is only superadded to the skill of the famous goldsmith.