Books: Ragnarok: The Age of Fire and Gravel

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The world has ripened for destruction; and "Ragnarok," the darkness
of the gods, or the rain of dust and ashes, comes to complete the
work.

The whole story is told with the utmost detail, and we shall see that
it agrees, in almost every particular, with what reason assures us
must have happened.

"There are three winters," or years, "during which great wars rage
over the world." Mankind has reached a climax of wickedness.
Doubtless it is, as now, highly civilized in some regions, while
still barbarian in others.

"Then happens that which will seem a great miracle: that _the wolf
devours the sun_, and this will seem a great loss."

That is, the Comet strikes the sun, or approaches so close to it that
it seems to do so.

"The other wolf devours the moon, and this, too, will cause great
mischief."

We have seen that the comets often come in couples or triplets.

"The stars shall be hurled from heaven."

This refers to the blazing _débris_ of the Comet falling to the earth.

"Then it shall come to pass that the earth will shake so violently
that trees will be torn up by the roots, the

[1. Anderson, "Norse Mythology," p. 416.]

{p. 143}

mountains will topple down, and all bonds and fetters will be broken
and snapped."

Chaos has come again. How closely does all this agree with Hesiod's
description of the shaking earth and the universal conflict of nature?

"The Fenris-wolf gets loose."

This, we shall see, is the name of one of the comets.

"_The sea rushes over the earth_, for the Midgard-serpent writhes in
giant rage, and seeks to gain the land."

The Midgard-serpent is the name of another comet; it strives to reach
the earth; its proximity disturbs the oceans. And then follows an
inexplicable piece of mythology:

"The ship that is called Naglfar also becomes loose. It is made of
the nails of dead men; wherefore it is worth warning that, when a man
dies with unpared nails, he supplies a large amount of materials for
the building of this ship, which both gods and men wish may be
finished as late as possible. But in this flood Naglfar gets afloat.
The giant Hrym is its steersman.

"The Fenris-wolf advances with wide-open mouth; _the upper jaw
reaches to heaven and the lower jaw is on the earth_."

That is to say, the comet extends from the earth to the sun.

"He would open it still wider had he room."

That is to say, the space between the sun and earth is not great
enough; the tail of the comet reaches even beyond the earth.

"_Fire flashes from his eyes and nostrils_."

A recent writer says:

"When bright comets happen to come very near to the sun, and are
subjected to close observation under the

{p. 144}

advantages which the fine telescopes of the present day afford, a
series of remarkable changes is found to take place in their luminous
configuration. First, _jets of bright light start out from the
nucleus_, and move through the fainter haze of the coma toward the
sun; and then these jets are turned backward round the edge of the
coma, and stream from it, behind the comet, until they are fashioned
into a tail."[1]

"The Midgard-serpent vomits forth _venom_, defiling all the air and
the sea; he is very terrible, and places himself _side by side with
the wolf_."

The two comets move together, like Biela's two fragments; and they
give out poison--the carbureted-hydrogen gas revealed by the
spectroscope.

"In the midst of this clash and din the heavens are rent in twain,
and the sons of Muspelheim come riding through the opening."

Muspelheim, according to Professor Anderson,[2] means the day of
judgment." _Muspel_ signifies an abode of fire, peopled by fiends. So
that this passage means, that the heavens are split open, or appear
to be, by the great shining comet, or comets, striking the earth; it
is a world of fire; it is the Day of Judgment.

"Surt rides first, and before him and after _him flames burning
fire_."

Surt is a demon associated with the comet;[3] he is the same as the
destructive god of the Egyptian mythology, Set, who destroys the sun.
It may mean the blazing nucleus of the comet.

"He has a very good sword that shines brighter than the sun. As they
ride over Bifrost it breaks to pieces, as has before been stated."

[1. "Edinburgh Review," October, 1874, p. 207.

2. "Norse Mythology," p. 454.

3. Ibid., p. 458.]

{p. 145}

Bifrost, we shall have reason to see hereafter, was a prolongation of
land westward from Europe, which connected the British Islands with
the island-home of the gods, or the godlike race of men.

There are geological proofs that such a land once existed. A writer,
Thomas Butler Gunn, in a recent number of an English publication,[1]
says:

"Tennyson's 'Voyage of Maeldune' is a magnificent allegorical
expansion of this idea; and the laureate has also finely commemorated
the old belief in the country of Lyonnesse, _extending beyond the
bounds_ of Cornwall:

'A land of old upheaven from the abyss
By fire, _to sink into the abyss again_;
Where fragments of forgotten peoples dwelt,
And the long mountains ended in a coast
Of ever-shifting sands, and far away
The phantom circle of a moaning sea.'

"Cornishmen of the last generation used to tell stories of strange
household relics picked up at the very low tides, nay, even of the
quaint habitations seen fathoms deep in the water."

There are those who believe that these Scandinavian Eddas came, in
the first instance, from Druidical Briton sources.

The Edda may be interpreted to mean that the Comet strikes the planet
west of Europe, and crushes down some land in that quarter, called
"the bridge of Bifrost."

Then follows a mighty battle between the gods and the Comet. It can
have, of course, but one termination; but it will recur again and
again in the legends of different nations. It was necessary that the
gods, the protectors of mankind, should struggle to defend them
against these strange and terrible enemies. But their very
helplessness

[1. "All the Year Round."]

{p. 146}

and their deaths show how immense was the calamity which had befallen
the world.

The Edda continues:

"The sons of Muspel direct their course to the plain which is called
Vigrid. Thither repair also the Fenris-wolf and the Midgard-serpent."

Both the comets have fallen on the earth.

"To this place have also come Loke" (the evil genius of the Norse
mythology) "and Hrym, and with him all the Frost giants. In Loke's
company are all the friends of Hel" (the goddess of death). "The sons
of Muspel have then their efficient bands alone by themselves. The
plain Vigrid is one hundred miles (rasts) on each side."

That is to say, all these evil forces, the comets, the fire, the
devil, and death, have taken possession of the great plain, the heart
of the civilized land. The scene is located in this spot, because
probably it was from this spot the legends were afterward dispersed
to all the world.

It is necessary for the defenders of mankind to rouse themselves.
There is no time to be lost, and, accordingly, we learn--

"While these things are happening, Heimdal" (he was the guardian of
the Bifrost-bridge) "stands up, blows with all his might in the
Gjallar-horn and _awakens all the gods_, who thereupon hold counsel.
Odin rides to Mimer's well to ask advice of Mimer for himself and his
folk.

"Then quivers the ash Ygdrasil, and all things in heaven and earth
tremble."

The ash Ygdrasil is the tree-of-life; the tree of the ancient
tree-worship; the tree which stands on the top of the pyramid in the
island-birth place of the Aztec race; the tree referred to in the
Hindoo legends.

"The asas" (the godlike men) "and the einherjes" (the heroes) "arm
themselves and speed forth to the battlefield. Odin rides first; with
his golden helmet, resplendent

{p. 147}

byrnie, and his spear Gungner, he advances against the Fenris-wolf"
(the first comet). "Thor stands by his side, but can give him no
assistance, for he has his hands full in his struggle with the
Midgard-serpent" (the second comet). "Frey encounters Surt, and heavy
blows are exchanged ere Frey falls. The cause of his death is that he
has not that good sword which he gave to Skirner. Even the dog Garm,"
(another comet), "that was bound before the Gnipa-cave, gets loose.
He is the greatest plague. He contends with Tyr, and they kill each
other. Thor gets great renown by slaying the Midgard-serpent, but
retreats only nine paces when he falls to the earth dead, _poisoned
by the venom that the serpent blows upon him_."

He has breathed the carbureted-hydrogen gas!

"The wolf swallows Odin, and thus causes his death; but Vidar
immediately turns and rushes at the wolf, placing one foot on his
nether jaw.

["On this foot he has the shoe, for which materials have been
gathering through all ages, namely, the strips of leather which men
cut off from the toes and heels of shoes; wherefore he who wishes to
render assistance to the asas must cast these strips away."]

This last paragraph, like that concerning the ship Naglfar, is
probably the interpolation of some later age. The narrative continues:

"With one hand Vidar seizes the upper jaw of the wolf, and thus rends
asunder his mouth. Thus the wolf perishes. Loke fights with Heimdal,
and they kill each other. _Thereupon Surt flings fire over the earth,
and burns up all the world_."

This narrative is from the Younger Edda. The Elder Edda is to the
same purpose, but there are more allusions to the effect of the
catastrophe on the earth

The eagle screams,
_And with pale beak tears corpses_. . . .
Mountains dash together, {p. 148}
Heroes go the way to Hel,
And heaven is rent in twain. . . .
_All men abandon their homesteads_
When the warder of Midgard
In wrath slays the serpent.
_The sun grows dark,
The earth sinks into the sea_,
The bright stars
From heaven vanish;
_Fire rages,
Heat blazes,
And high flames play
'Gainst heaven itself_"

And what follow then? Ice and cold and winter. For although these
things come first in the narrative of the Edda, yet we are told that
"_before these_" things, to wit, the cold winters, there occurred the
wickedness of the world, and the wolves and the serpent made their
appearance. So that the events transpired in the order in which I
have given them.

"First there is a winter called the Fimbul winter,"

"The mighty, the great, the iron winter,"[1]

"'_When snow drives from. all quarters_, the frosts are so severe,
the winds so keen, there is no joy in the sun. _There are three such
winters in succession, without any intervening summer_."

Here we have the Glacial period which followed the Drift. Three years
of incessant wind, and snow, and intense cold.

The Elder Edda says, speaking of the Fenris-wolf:

"It feeds on the bodies
Of men, when they die
The seats of the gods
_It stains with red blood_."

[1. "Norse Mythology," p. 444.]

{p. 149}

This probably refers to the iron-stained red clay cast down by the
Comet over a large part of the earth; the "seats of the gods" means
the home of the god-like race, which was doubtless covered, like
Europe and America, with red clay; the waters which ran from it must
have been the color of blood.

"_The Sunshine blackens_
In the summers thereafter,
And the weather grows bad."

In the Younger Edda (p. 57) we are given a still more precise
description of the Ice age:

"Replied Har, explaining, that as soon as the streams, that are
called Elivogs" (the rivers from under ice), "had came so far that
the venomous yeast" (the clay?) "which flowed with them hardened, as
does dross that runs from the fire, then it turned" (as) "into ice.
And when this ice stopped and flowed no more, then gathered over it
the drizzling rain that arose from the venom" (the clay), "and froze
into rime" (ice), "_and one layer of ice was laid upon another clear
into the Ginungagap_."

Ginungagap, we are told,[1] was the name applied in the eleventh
century by the Northmen to the ocean between Greenland and Vinland,
or America. It doubtless meant originally the whole of the Atlantic
Ocean. The clay, when it first fell, was probably full of chemical
elements, which rendered it, and the waters which filtered through
it, unfit for human use; clay waters are, to this day, the worst in
the world.

"Then said Jafnhar: 'All that part of Ginungagap that turns to the
north' (the north Atlantic) 'was filled with thick and heavy ice and
rime, and everywhere within were drizzling rains and gusts. But the
south part of Ginungagap was lighted up by the glowing sparks that
flew out of Muspelheim.'"

[1. "Norse Mythology," p. 447.]

{p. 150}

The ice and rime to the north represent the age of ice and snow.
Muspelheim was the torrid country of the south, over which the clouds
could not yet form in consequence of the heat--Africa.

But it can not last forever. The clouds disappear; the floods find
their way back to the ocean; nature begins to decorate once more the
scarred and crushed face of the world. But where is the human race?
The "Younger Edda" tells us:

"During the conflagration caused by Surt's fire, a woman by the name
of Lif and a man named Lifthraser lie concealed in Hodmimer's hold,
or forest. The dew of the dawn serves them for food, and so great a
race shall spring from them, that their descendants shall soon spread
over the whole earth."[1]

The "Elder Edda" says:

"Lif and Lifthraser
Will lie hid
In Hodmimer's-holt;
The morning dew
They have for food.
From them are the races descended."

Holt is a grove, or forest, or hold; it was probably a cave. We shall
see that nearly all the legends refer to the caves in which mankind
escaped from destruction.

This statement,

"From them are the races descended,"

shows that this is not prophecy, but history; it refers to the past,
not to the future; it describes not a Day of Judgment to come, but
one that has already fallen on the human family.

Two others, of the godlike race, also escaped in some

[1. "Norse Mythology" p. 429.]

{p. 151}

way not indicated; Vidar and Vale are their names. They, too, had
probably taken refuge in some cavern.

"Neither the sea nor Surt's fire had harmed them, and they dwell on
the plains of Ida, where Asgard _was before_. Thither come also the
sons of Thor, Mode, and Magne, and they have Mjolner. _Then come
Balder and Hoder from Hel_.

Mode and Magne are children of Thor; they belong to the godlike race.
They, too, have escaped. Mjolner is Thor's hammer. Balder is the Sun;
he has returned from the abode of death, to which the comet consigned
him. Hoder is the Night.

All this means that the fragments and remnants of humanity reassemble
on the plain of Ida--the plain of Vigrid--where the battle was
fought. They possess the works of the old civilization, represented
by Thor's hammer; and the day and night once more return after the
long midnight blackness.

And the Vala looks again upon a renewed and rejuvenated world:

"She sees arise
The second time.
From the sea, the earth,
_Completely green_.
The cascades fall,
The eagle soars,
From lofty mounts
Pursues its prey."

It is once more the glorious, the sun-lighted world the world of
flashing seas, dancing streams, and green leaves; with the eagle,
high above it all,

"Batting the sunny ceiling of the globe
With his dark wings;"

while

"The wild cataracts leap in glory."

{p. 152}

What history, what poetry, what beauty, what inestimable pictures of
an infinite past have lain hidden away in these Sagas--the despised
heritage of all the blue-eyed, light-haired races of the world!

Rome and Greece can not parallel this marvelous story:

The gods convene
On Ida's plains,
And talk of the powerful
Midgard-serpent;
They call to mind
The Fenris-wolf
And the ancient runes
Of the mighty Odin."

What else can mankind think of, or dream of, or talk of for the next
thousand years but this awful, this unparalleled calamity through
which the race has passed?

A long-subsequent but most ancient and cultivated people, whose
memory has, for us, almost faded from the earth, will thereafter
embalm the great drama in legends, myths, prayers, poems, and sagas;
fragments of which are found to-day dispersed through all literatures
in all lands; some of them, as we shall see, having found their way
even into the very Bible revered alike of Jew and Christian:

The Edda continues,

"Then again
The wonderful Golden tablets
Are found in the grass
In time's morning,
The leader of the gods
And Odin's race
Possessed them."

And what a find was that! This poor remnant of humanity discovers
"the golden tablets" of the former

{p. 153}

civilization. Doubtless, the inscribed tablets, by which the art of
writing survived to the race; for what would tablets be without
inscriptions? For they talk of "the ancient runes of mighty Odin,"
that is, of the runic letters, the alphabetical writing. And we shall
see hereafter that this view is confirmed from other sources.

There follows a happy age:

"The fields unsown
Yield their growth;
All ills cease.
Balder comes.
Hoder and Balder,
Those heavenly gods,
Dwell together in Odin's halls."

The great catastrophe is past. Man is saved, The world is once more
fair. The sun shines again in heaven. Night and day follow each other
in endless revolution around the happy globe. Ragnarok is past.

{p. 154}

CHAPTER V.

THE CONFLAGRATION OF PHAËTON

Now let us turn to the mythology of the Latins, as preserved in the
pages of Ovid, one of the greatest of the poets of ancient Rome.[1]

Here we have the burning of the world involved in the myth of
Phaëton, son of Phœbus--Apollo--the Sun--who drives the chariot
of his father; he can not control the horses of the Sun, they run
away with him; they come so near the earth as to set it on fire, and
Phaëton is at last killed by Jove, as he killed Typhon in the Greek
legends, to save heaven and earth from complete and common ruin.

This is the story of the conflagration as treated by a civilized
mind, explained by a myth, and decorated with the flowers and foliage
of poetry.

We shall see many things in the narrative of Ovid which strikingly
confirm our theory.

Phaëton, to prove that he is really the son of Phœbus, the Sun,
demands of his parent the right to drive his chariot for one day. The
sun-god reluctantly consents, not without many pleadings that the
infatuated and rash boy would give up his inconsiderate ambition.
Phaëton persists. The old man says:

"Even the ruler of vast Olympus, who hurls the ruthless bolts with
his terrific right hand, can not guide

[1. "The Metamorphoses," book xi, fable 1.]

{p. 155}

this chariot; and yet, what have we greater than Jupiter? The first
part of the road is steep, and such as the horses, though fresh in
the morning, can hardly climb. In the middle of the heaven it is high
aloft, whence it is often a source of fear, even to myself, to look
down upon the sea and the earth, and my breast trembles with fearful
apprehensions. The last stage is a steep descent, and requires a sure
command of the horses. . . . Besides, the heavens are carried round
with a constant rotation, and carrying with them the lofty stars, and
whirl them with rapid revolution. Against this I have to contend; and
that force which overcomes all other things does not overcome me, and
_I am carried in a contrary direction to the rapid world_."

Here we seem to have a glimpse of some higher and older learning,
mixed with the astronomical errors of the day: Ovid supposes the
rapid world to move, revolve, one way, while the sun appears to move
another.

But Phaëton insists on undertaking the dread task. The doors of
Aurora are opened, "her halls filled with roses"; the stars
disappear; the Hours yoke the horses, "filled with the _juice of
ambrosia_," the father anoints the face of his son with a hallowed
drug that he may the better endure the great heat; the reins are
handed him, and the fatal race begins. Phœbus has advised him
not to drive too high, or "thou wilt set on fire the signs of the
heavens"--the constellations;--nor too low, or he will consume the
earth.

"In the mean time the swift Pyroeis, and Eoüs and Æthon, the horses
of the sun, and Phlegon, the fourth, fill the air with neighings,
sending forth flames, and beat the barriers with their feet. . . .
They take the road . . . they cleave the resisting clouds, and,
raised aloft by their wings, they pass by the east winds that had
arisen from the same parts. But the weight" (of Phaëton) "was light,
and such as the horses of the sun could not feel; and the yoke was
deficient of its wonted weight. . . . Soon as

{p. 156}

the steeds had perceived this they rush on and leave the beaten
track, and run not in the order in which they did before. He himself
becomes alarmed, and knows not which way to turn the reins intrusted
to him; nor does he know where the way is, nor, if he did know, could
he control them. Then, for the first time, did the cold Triones grow
warm with sunbeams, and attempt, in vain, to be dipped in the sea
that was forbidden to them. And the Serpent, which is situate next to
the icy pole, being before torpid with cold, and formidable to no
one, grew warm, and regained new rage for the heat. And they say that
thou, Boötes, scoured off in a mighty bustle, although thou wert but
slow, and thy cart hindered thee. But when from the height of the
skies the unhappy Phaëton looked down upon the earth lying far, very
far beneath, he grew pale, and his knees shook with a sudden terror;
and, in a light so great, darkness overspread his eyes. And now he
could wish that he had never touched the horses of his father; and
now he is sorry that he knew his descent, and prevailed in his
request; now desiring to be called the son of Merops."

"What can he do? . . . He is stupefied; he neither lets go the reins,
nor is able to control them. In his fright, too, he sees strange
objects scattered everywhere in various parts of the heavens, and the
forms of huge wild beasts. There is a spot where the Scorpion bends
his arms into two curves, and, with his tail and claws bending on
either side, he extends his limbs through the space of two signs of
the zodiac. As soon as the youth beheld him, wet with the sweat of
black venom, and threatening wounds with the barbed point of his
tail, bereft of sense he let go the reins in a chill of horror."

Compare the course which Ovid tells us Phaëton pursued through the
constellations, past the Great Serpent and Boötes, and close to the
venomous Scorpion, with the orbit of Donati's comet in 1858, as given
in Schellen's great work.[1]

[1. "Spectrum Analysis," p. 391.]

{p. 157}

###

COURSE OF DONATI'S COMET

The path described by Ovid shows that the comet came from the north
part of the heavens; and this agrees with what we know of the Drift;
the markings indicate that it came from the north.

The horses now range at large; "they go through

{p. 158}

the air of an unknown region; . . . they rush on the stars fixed in
the sky"; they approach the earth.

"The moon, too, wonders that her brother's horses run _lower than her
own_, and the scorched clouds send forth smoke, As each region is
most elevated it is _caught by the flames_, and cleft, it makes _vast
chasms, its moisture being carried away_. The grass grows pale; the
trees, with their foliage, are _burned up_, and the dry, standing
corn affords fuel for its own destruction. But I am complaining of
trifling ills. _Great cities perish_, together with their
fortifications, and the flames _turn whole nations into ashes_;
woods, together with mountains, are on fire. Athos burns, and the
Cilician Taurus, and Tmolus, and Œta, and Ida, now dry but once
most famed for its springs, and Helicon, the resort of the virgin
Muses, and Hæmus, not yet called Œagrian. _Ætna burns intensely
with redoubled flames_, and Parnassus, with its two summits, and
Eryx, and Cynthus, and Orthrys, and Rhodope, at length to be
despoiled of its snows, and Mimas, and Dindyma, and Mycale, and
Cithæron, created for the sacred rites. Nor does its cold avail even
Scythia; Caucasus is on fire, and Ossa with Pindus, and Olympus,
greater than them both, and the lofty Alps, and the cloud-bearing
Apennines.

"Then, indeed, Phaëton _beholds the world see on fire on all sides_,
and he can not endure heat so great, and he inhales with his mouth
scorching air, as though from a deep furnace, and perceives his own
chariot to be on fire. And neither is he able now to bear the ashes
and _the emitted embers_; and on every side he is involved in a
_heated smoke_. Covered with _a pitchy darkness_, he knows not
whither he is going, nor where he is, and is hurried away at the
pleasure of the winged steeds. They believe that it was then that the
nations of _the Æthiopians contracted their black hue_, the blood
being attracted. into the surface of the body. Then was Libya"
(Sahara?) "made dry by the heat, the moisture being carried off; then
with disheveled hair the Nymphs _lamented the springs and the lakes_.
Bœotia bewails Dirce, Argos Amymone, and Ephyre the waters of
Pirene. Nor do rivers that

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