heroes and hero worship-第9节
按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
hanged into Jack the Giant…killer： but the mind that made it is here yet。 How strangely things grow； and die； and do not die！ There are twigs of that great world…tree of Norse Belief still curiously traceable。 This poor Jack of the Nursery； with his miraculous shoes of swiftness； coat of darkness； sword of sharpness； he is one。 _Hynde Etin_； and still more decisively _Red Etin of Ireland_； _in_ the Scottish Ballads； these are both derived from Norseland； _Etin_ is evidently a _Jotun_。 Nay； Shakspeare's _Hamlet_ is a twig too of this same world…tree； there seems no doubt of that。 Hamlet； _Amleth_ I find； is really a mythic personage； and his Tragedy； of the poisoned Father； poisoned asleep by drops in his ear； and the rest； is a Norse mythus！ Old Saxo； as his wont was； made it a Danish history； Shakspeare； out of Saxo； made it what we see。 That is a twig of the world…tree that has _grown_； I think；by nature or accident that one has grown！
In fact； these old Norse songs have a _truth_ in them； an inward perennial truth and greatness；as； indeed； all must have that can very long preserve itself by tradition alone。 It is a greatness not of mere body and gigantic bulk； but a rude greatness of soul。 There is a sublime uncomplaining melancholy traceable in these old hearts。 A great free glance into the very deeps of thought。 They seem to have seen； these brave old Northmen； what Meditation has taught all men in all ages； That this world is after all but a show；a phenomenon or appearance； no real thing。 All deep souls see into that；the Hindoo Mythologist； the German Philosopher；the Shakspeare； the earnest Thinker； wherever he may be：
〃We are such stuff as Dreams are made of！〃
One of Thor's expeditions； to Utgard （the _Outer_ Garden； central seat of Jotun…land）； is remarkable in this respect。 Thialfi was with him； and Loke。 After various adventures； they entered upon Giant…land； wandered over plains； wild uncultivated places； among stones and trees。 At nightfall they noticed a house； and as the door； which indeed formed one whole side of the house； was open； they entered。 It was a simple habitation； one large hall； altogether empty。 They stayed there。 Suddenly in the dead of the night loud noises alarmed them。 Thor grasped his hammer； stood in the door； prepared for fight。 His companions within ran hither and thither in their terror； seeking some outlet in that rude hall； they found a little closet at last； and took refuge there。 Neither had Thor any battle： for； lo； in the morning it turned out that the noise had been only the _snoring_ of a certain enormous but peaceable Giant； the Giant Skrymir； who lay peaceably sleeping near by； and this that they took for a house was merely his _Glove_； thrown aside there； the door was the Glove…wrist； the little closet they had fled into was the Thumb！ Such a glove；I remark too that it had not fingers as ours have； but only a thumb； and the rest undivided： a most ancient； rustic glove！
Skrymir now carried their portmanteau all day； Thor； however； had his own suspicions； did not like the ways of Skrymir； determined at night to put an end to him as he slept。 Raising his hammer； he struck down into the Giant's face a right thunder…bolt blow； of force to rend rocks。 The Giant merely awoke； rubbed his cheek； and said； Did a leaf fall？ Again Thor struck； so soon as Skrymir again slept； a better blow than before； but the Giant only murmured； Was that a grain of sand？ Thor's third stroke was with both his hands （the 〃knuckles white〃 I suppose）； and seemed to dint deep into Skrymir's visage； but he merely checked his snore； and remarked； There must be sparrows roosting in this tree； I think； what is that they have dropt？At the gate of Utgard； a place so high that you had to 〃strain your neck bending back to see the top of it；〃 Skrymir went his ways。 Thor and his companions were admitted； invited to take share in the games going on。 To Thor； for his part； they handed a Drinking…horn； it was a common feat； they told him； to drink this dry at one draught。 Long and fiercely； three times over； Thor drank； but made hardly any impression。 He was a weak child； they told him： could he lift that Cat he saw there？ Small as the feat seemed； Thor with his whole godlike strength could not； he bent up the creature's back； could not raise its feet off the ground； could at the utmost raise one foot。 Why； you are no man； said the Utgard people； there is an Old Woman that will wrestle you！ Thor； heartily ashamed； seized this haggard Old Woman； but could not throw her。
And now； on their quitting Utgard； the chief Jotun； escorting them politely a little way； said to Thor： 〃You are beaten then：yet be not so much ashamed； there was deception of appearance in it。 That Horn you tried to drink was the _Sea_； you did make it ebb； but who could drink that； the bottomless！ The Cat you would have lifted；why； that is the _Midgard… snake_； the Great World…serpent； which； tail in mouth； girds and keeps up the whole created world； had you torn that up； the world must have rushed to ruin！ As for the Old Woman； she was _Time_； Old Age； Duration： with her what can wrestle？ No man nor no god with her； gods or men； she prevails over all！ And then those three strokes you struck；look at these _three valleys_； your three strokes made these！〃 Thor looked at his attendant Jotun： it was Skrymir；it was； say Norse critics； the old chaotic rocky _Earth_ in person； and that glove…_house_ was some Earth…cavern！ But Skrymir had vanished； Utgard with its sky…high gates； when Thor grasped his hammer to smite them； had gone to air； only the Giant's voice was heard mocking： 〃Better come no more to Jotunheim！〃
This is of the allegoric period； as we see； and half play； not of the prophetic and entirely devout： but as a mythus is there not real antique Norse gold in it？ More true metal； rough from the Mimer…stithy； than in many a famed Greek Mythus _shaped_ far better！ A great broad Brobdignag grin of true humor is in this Skrymir； mirth resting on earnestness and sadness； as the rainbow on black tempest： only a right valiant heart is capable of that。 It is the grim humor of our own Ben Jonson； rare old Ben； runs in the blood of us； I fancy； for one catches tones of it； under a still other shape； out of the American Backwoods。
That is also a very striking conception that of the _Ragnarok_； Consummation； or _Twilight of the Gods_。 It is in the _Voluspa_ Song； seemingly a very old； prophetic idea。 The Gods and Jotuns； the divine Powers and the chaotic brute ones； after long contest and partial victory by the former； meet at last in universal world…embracing wrestle and duel； World…serpent against Thor； strength against strength； mutually extinctive； and ruin； 〃twilight〃 sinking into darkness； swallows the created Universe。 The old Universe with its Gods is sunk； but it is not final death： there is to be a new Heaven and a new Earth； a higher supreme God； and Justice to reign among men。 Curious： this law of mutation； which also is a law written in man's inmost thought； had been deciphered by these old earnest Thinkers in their rude style； and how； though all dies； and even gods die； yet all death is but a phoenix fire…death； and new…birth into the Greater and the Better！ It is the fundamental Law of Being for a creature made of Time； living in this Place of Hope。 All earnest men have seen into it； may still see into it。
And now； connected with this； let us glance at the _last_ mythus of the appearance of Thor； and end there。 I fancy it to be the latest in date of all these fables； a sorrowing protest against the advance of Christianity；set forth reproachfully by some Conservative Pagan。 King Olaf has been harshly blamed for his over…zeal in introducing Christianity； surely I should have blamed him far more for an under…zeal in that！ He paid dear enough for it； he died by the revolt of his Pagan people； in battle； in the year 1033； at Stickelstad； near that Drontheim； where the chief Cathedral of the North has now stood for many centuries； dedicated gratefully to his memory as _Saint_ Olaf。 The mythus about Thor is to this effect。 King Olaf； the Christian Reform King； is sailing with fit escort along the shore of Norway； from haven to haven； dispensing justice； or doing other royal work： on leaving a certain haven； it is found that a stranger； of grave eyes and aspect； red beard； of stately robust figure； has stept in。 The courtiers address him； his answers surprise by their pertinency and depth： at length he is brought to the King。 The stranger's conversation here is not less remarkable； as they sail along the beautiful shore； but after some time； he addresses King Olaf thus： 〃Yes； King Olaf； it is all beautiful； with the sun shining on it there； green； fruitful； a right fair home for you； and many a sore day had Thor； many a wild fight with the rock Jotuns； before he could make it so。 And now you seem minded to put away Thor。 King Olaf； have a care！〃 said the stranger； drawing down his brows；and when they looked again； he was nowhere to be found。This is the last appearance of Thor on the stage of this world！
Do we not see well enough how the Fable might arise； without unver
