“In this hedge a sweet-briar was in bloom. She drew near to inhale the fragrance; she touched the flower, and that was all that was needed. Marietta became a mother, and when her son was born she felt by the boundless pride that filled her heart, that she had given birth to a god.
“In the mean time the other gods of her own country and of the adjoining countries had been warned by their prophetesses that this child, born of a virgin and a flower, would one day drive them out of heaven; they assembled, fully armed and determined that mother and child must both die so as to prevent the threatened catastrophe.
“At the moment when they were holding their secret councils, Marietta appeared in their midst holding her infant in her arms, and all these gods, who had until now wielded such absolute power, fled in dismay to the far North, and the icy gates of the North Pole closed behind them.”
This is the story of Marietta and her child Jesus.
It would certainly seem as if this naïve account, well known among the ancient legends of Finland, was nothing less than a slight sketch of that great epic poem which we have laid before our readers. We have only filled out the details by the aid of similar documents.
Henceforth Christianity enjoyed the results of that great day at Argentoratum. At a later period the conquered gods, it is true, showed once more signs of resistance on isolated points, but from the first, this triumph of Mary and Jesus, and perhaps also the victories obtained by King Clovis, changed the first dawn of Christianity in Germany into a kind of purifying conflagration, which spread rapidly from the Rhine to the Weser and from the Weser to the Danube.
Curious circumstances sometimes came to its assistance. Thus, many Teutons had been taught by their Druid teachers to acknowledge but one single God, and this primitive doctrine naturally reconciled them to the new creed. But, more than that, the particular god whom they thus acknowledged, was called Esus, almost Jesus! Others had followed the example of the Slaves and worshipped the handle of their swords, which bore the form of a cross; they naturally recognized in the Christian cross a familiar emblem of protection and safety. Even baptism was in no way distasteful to the followers of Odin. They readily adopted, it in memory of the regular and regenerative ablutions with water which their ancient creed prescribed. Odin had said to them in the Runic chapter of the Edda: “If I wish a man never to perish in combat, I sprinkle him with water soon after his birth?”
Finally, this just man, put to death by wicked men, this risen Christ, reminded them forcibly of their own god Balder. Evidently the predicted time had come. Balder, the ancient prisoner of Niflheim, was about to renew the world; in his new shape, the Bright God was no longer the son of Frigg; he was now Mary’s son and his name was Jesus.
This disposition, however, although plainly shown in many parts of Germany, was by no means unanimous.
At the table of King Clovis, the bishops, and Saint Reni himself, were compelled to sit by the side of Scandinavian Druids. When they intoned their Benedicite, the latter never failed to pour out their libations in honor of Asa-Thor and Asa-Freyr. In spite of all the heroic and indefatigable efforts of the priests, polytheism survived even among the new converts, who would walk devoutly in the processions of Christian worship, while they carried their idols and their fetishes under their arms, and who never failed to make the sign of the cross when they passed a tree or a spring that had been held sacred by their forefathers. What could be done to make them sincere and orthodox Christians? Liberty, in the sense in which we understand it now, and have good reason to understand it, would have appeared to a Teuton or a Slave as a beautiful woman, with a wooden yoke around her neck and all her limbs in chains. Germany had her laws, as well as every other Northern country her written or unwritten laws, but the dignity of a freeborn man consisted mainly in disregarding these laws. The free man left his country, to engage in war wherever he chose, and his family, to live in any country he might prefer. It was the same thing with religious matters; he reserved to himself his independent judgment, the right to worship as he chose and the privilege of combining such articles of creed as pleased him.