Sunday, January 28, 2018

The New World Translation Defended (4)


Introducing a new blog dedicated to the New World Translation Bible, a Bible version that is unfairly criticized. Simply visit https://newworldtranslation.blogspot.com/ and right now it features the following articles:

Where to Place the Comma at Luke 23:43 by Chas Ives 1873
http://newworldtranslation.blogspot.com/2017/12/where-to-place-comma-at-luke-2343-by.html

Answering Questions About Adding Words & Sharp's Rule in the New World Translation
http://newworldtranslation.blogspot.com/2017/12/answering-questions-about-adding-words.html

Answering Questions About Isaiah 9:6 & John 20:28 and the New World Translation
http://newworldtranslation.blogspot.com/2017/12/answering-questions-about-isaiah-96.html

Was Jesus Worshipped as God? by Samuel J. May 1854
http://newworldtranslation.blogspot.com/2017/12/was-jesus-worshipped-as-god-by-samuel-j.html

Answers to Questions asked using the New World Translation
http://newworldtranslation.blogspot.com/2017/12/answers-to-questions-asked-using-new.html

A Different View of the Alpha and Omega and Jesus Christ
http://newworldtranslation.blogspot.com/2017/12/a-different-view-of-alpha-and-omega-and.html

Rodolphus Dickinson's Foppish 1833 Bible
http://newworldtranslation.blogspot.com/2017/12/rodolphus-dickinsons-foppish-1833-bible.html

More on the New World Translation and Luke 23:43
http://newworldtranslation.blogspot.com/2018/01/more-on-new-world-translation-and-luke.html

On the Words "Savior" and "ONOMA" and "Greater" in the Bible
http://newworldtranslation.blogspot.com/2018/01/one-words-savior-and-onoma-and-greater.html

Answering Questions on Colossians 1 & John 8:58 and the New World Translation
http://newworldtranslation.blogspot.com/2018/01/answering-questions-on-colossians-1.html

Answering Questions on the holy spirit
http://newworldtranslation.blogspot.com/2018/01/answering-questions-on-holy-spirit.html

Answering Questions on the NWT Bible, the word "Worship" and "Lord"
http://newworldtranslation.blogspot.com/2018/01/answering-questions-on-nwt-bible-word.html

Tree & Serpent Worship by H. Shepheard 1871
http://newworldtranslation.blogspot.com/2018/01/tree-serpent-worship-by-h-shepheard-1871.html

Puzzles in the Bible By John Q. Boyer
http://newworldtranslation.blogspot.com/2018/01/puzzles-in-bible-by-john-q-boyer.html

Revisiting Monogenes Theos and "Only-begotten."
http://newworldtranslation.blogspot.com/2018/01/revisiting-monogenes-theos-and-only.html

The First Unitarian in America by George W Cooke 1902
http://newworldtranslation.blogspot.com/2018/01/the-first-unitarian-in-american-by.html

Answering Questions on "the First and the Last."
http://newworldtranslation.blogspot.com/2018/01/answering-questions-on-first-and-last.html

Was Jesus Worshipped as God? by Winthrop Bailey 1822
http://newworldtranslation.blogspot.com/2018/01/was-jesus-worshipped-as-god-by-winthrop.html

What has the Trinity Done to Our Bible?
http://newworldtranslation.blogspot.com/2018/01/what-has-trinity-done-to-our-bible.html

I Simply Can't Tell How Many Times "Jesus" is Mentioned in the Bible
http://newworldtranslation.blogspot.com/2018/01/i-cant-tell-how-many-times-jesus-is.html

The Divine Name in the Early Septuagint and New Testament
http://newworldtranslation.blogspot.com/2018/01/the-divine-name-in-early-septuagint-and.html

Understanding Scriptures that Connect Jesus with Jehovah
http://newworldtranslation.blogspot.com/2018/01/understanding-scriptures-that-connect.html

The Divine Name and the Divinity of Jesus
http://newworldtranslation.blogspot.com/2018/01/the-divine-name-and-divinity-of-jesus.html



For a list of all of my disks and ebooks click here

Saturday, January 27, 2018

The Fellowship of the Ring in Symbolic Mythology by John M Woolsey 1917


The Fellowship of the Ring in Symbolic Mythology by John Martin Woolsey 1917

Join my Facebook Group

See also Symbology & Ancient Symbolism - 100 Books on DVDrom

WOULDST thou have thy wish fulfilled, thou hast only to turn the ring on thy finger. Vernaliken.

The arms of the City of Glasgow are a bell, a tree, a bird and a fish with a ring in its mouth. And again Glasgow means the cow. They are all symbols of the same moon.

These rings of which Aaron made a calf were the same rings which Gideon collected, the spoil of the Ishmaelites, and made an Ephod, and put in his city of Oprah (Ind. 8:27.)

The man took a golden earring of half a shekel weight and gave to Rebekah. (Gen. 24:32.)

That new moon ring is one of the most universal symbols used over the earth among civilized and savage races alike. It is on the silver door of the moon that entered the hall of the moon sanctuary, the sign of "good luck," the victory wafter, the triumph of light over darkness. The sun dwelt there and rode over the dark moon waters in that ring as a silver boat.

The moon comes up every month and passes over its ring to the next constellation.

It was the halo or magic necklace of Freya; it is the cestus of Aphrodite, that golden bracelet of the moon ring whose thickness increased every night.

These rings worn as armlets had originally the same lunar expression as the ring mounds of earth for enclosures, and money was made into rings as gold and silver currency; it was the ring moon of the old Celtic and Cymric race, as mentioned by Caesar, and the old Britons had armor made of steel rings antiquary, 1887.

Frode, the god of peace of the North Mythology ruled over the red rings, and the mill called Grotte, which ground whatever was wished. Young Edda Anderson, "Song of the Grotte," or mill, and the mill was the moon.

King Solomon imprisoned evil spirits in jars which were sealed up with his signet ring, and then cast them into the sea. It is the imp in the bottle thrown down in the depths of the moon Hades during the summer. But they will escape in time to destroy the work of the summer brother. In the middle ages gems were engraved with mystic symbols and the name of God, and then blessed by the priest which rendered them potent against evil.

Again it was a wish ring and whatever its possessor required it brought, whether clothes, or food; in the absence of a ring, girls lock their little fingers and make a wish.

Biarco is unable to see one who is riding a white steed until he peeps through a ring which has been formed by the arm of a woman to whom spirits are visible.

The white steed is the sun riding the white horse of the moon at night. He is the night sun. The arm of the woman is the new moon, and spirits and ghosts are only visible at night when the sun is absent and the sun peeps through the moon ring.

The ring held by the dwarf in "Slyboots," Esthonian tales (Kirby) the ring of strength on his left hand which he will not part with, is a token of remembrance from his dead wife. The dead wife is the dark moon.

The one who held that wish ring would never want for money; it was the fruitful ring; it would drop rings until the purse was full.

That ring which was given at parting as a token, and when it changed color it betokened evil. This moon is represented as stretching out her hand in a dark passage to receive the ring. The time is at the conjunction of sun and moon on the first night of the new moon.

This ring has curative powers by rubbing styes on the eye-lids or hung in the ears in the same way as the sun healed the sore eyes of the moon Leah, and restored sight to the blind by his healing ring, and this gave rise to the superstition of putting gold rings in the ears to cure sore eyes formerly so prevalent.

The ship on which Balder's body was burned was called "Ringhorn;" it was the moon ship, that horn end ring of the moon on which Sigurd and Hercules were burned. Odin put his own ring Draupner on Balder's funeral pyre. The ring was dwarf wrought, and every ninth night dropped eight rings of equal weight.

The ring and lamp of Aladdin in Arabian Nights, by rubbing them, two genii appear who are the slaves of the lamp and ring, and are obedient to the commands of the owner.

Ring and lamp are one in phenomena. The new moon, they can only be produced at the conjunction of sun and moon when they rub together, and by friction create new fire as it were. A twin fire and the two horns of the moon are the genii, or twin-born children of sun and moon.

Her old lover was identified by a ring in the Ballad of Hynde Horn. (Buchanan, Vol. 2, p. 268):

A bride came tripping down the stair,
The combs glowed red in her wavy hair;
A cup of wine she held in her hand,
And that she gave to the beggarman.
As out of the cup he drank the wine,
'Twas into the cup he dropped the ring.

"O got ye that by sea or land,
Or got ye that on a drown'd man's hand?"
"I got it not by sea or land,
Nor got it on a drown'd man's hand.
But I got it at my wooing gay
And I'll give it to you on your wedding day."

Sometimes in drinking the maiden found the half ring in the bottom of the glass, and by this she knew her lover; the moon fills her disk by joining her horns. This will make the ring complete.

Enchantment or magic was broken by a ring when the suitor drinking the glass of wine, finds the gold ring at the bottom, which is the same phenomenon as the moon sea drawn dry by the bulls of Hu of Britain until the Avance or cup appears, or Thor, drinking the ocean or drawing up the moon sea from its bed, until that ring or serpent appears which is the ring of the new moon.

The ring of the springtime was warm and life giving and red as wine. That was the wedding ring but the winter ring was cold on her finger. The moon became paralyzed and turned to stone, or the summer gold ring was taken off the hand of Brynhild, the summer moon maiden, by Sigurd, her summer hero, and replaced by the cold ring of winter.

Story of Sakuntala, the nymph of nature, born and left in a forest where she was nourished by birds, and Avas found and brought up by the sage, Kanwa, in his hermitage.

She became the wife of Dusheyanta, a King of the Lunar race, by a Gandharva marriage, that is a simple declaration of mutual acceptance, and when her husband left her to return to his city, he gave her a ring as a pledge of love and rememberance, but finding herself about to become a mother she set off to rejoin her husband, but on her way while bathing in a sacred pool she lost the ring, and when she reached the palace of her husband, the king was unable to identify her without the ring, and she returned to the forest with her mother and gave birth to Bharata, but at that time a fisherman caught a large fish in which was found a ring which he carried to Dusheyanta, the husband of Sakuntala, and the King recognized his own ring and accepted Sakuntala and her son, Bharata.

(The above story from the Hindu Maha-Bharata has had very wide circulation and admiration.) It is the story of the new moon ring which is lost every month for three days, but is always found on the third day.

The seal of Solomon had engraved upon it the great name of God, which was a most famous talisman which gave its possessor command over all elements, demons and created beings.

The first ring of the moon was the seed ring. All the other rings are born of that one ring which never dies, though the house be burned or sunk in the sea; though robbers carry it off it will be returned, for on that all the gods have set their seal. That was the golden fleece of the shepherd, and the plough share of the tiller.

This ring belonged to the ancient hoard of the Niblungs' kept in the moon casket; it was the ring of Andvare, the dwarf, taken from him by Loki and given to Rheidmar, the ancient, and again taken by his son, Fafnir, the serpent, who slew his father and took from him the hoard, which he hid down upon the sea floor of the moon—called the serpent's bed, and the bed of the "Old Wallouer"—and again in the spring the sun prince Sigurd slew the serpent and took back the ring of Andvare, and its curse with it and wed Brunhild, and again he took it off her finger at the end of summer and gave it to Gudrun, the winter moon, his second wife.

Fairies, such as Puck and Oberon, when they danced by moonlight with locked hands formed the Elfin-ring.

Among the Norsemen a holy oath was taken upon a ring kept in the temple for that purpose—Odin himself gave a ring oath in the Havamal (Anderson). There Loki drew off the elf ring; it was the ring of Andvare, the dwarf; it was the seed of gold and of grief.

House of "Wolflings, p. 20. "From what land cometh the Hauberg? It holdeth firm and fast the life of the body it lappeth." It was a body shield of rings. "It cometh from the land of the sun and is the coat and belt of rings which shields the moon."

In northern custom on Shrove Tuesday on Bannocknicht, a cake was baked in silence by the maiden. If she spoke or broke silence or her tongue loosed, another took her place—a ring was put in the cake and when baked it was broken in as many pieces as there were persons present, and whoever got the ring was first to be married.

The Wonderful Ring, the gift of the Serpent King from the Hindu by Steel and Temple, and the ring was the gift of the serpent king to a spend-thrift prince. It was a priceless treasure and brought its possessor whatever he wished, and it built for the prince a golden palace with golden stairs in the middle of the sea, in one night, which is the new moon palace, and then won by it the princess to wife. And in time as she was combing her hair, two of her golden hairs escaped and floated down to the mouth of the stream and betrayed the princess, and her old witch aunt fitted out a barge and in the absence of the prince, her husband, she brought her down to the royal city at the river mouth to become the wife of the winter King of Hades. And the wise woman, her aunt, who was the mistress of Hades, the winter moon, took from her the wish-ring and kept it in her mouth night and day for safety, for whoever possessed the ring could have his wish whatever it might be. But after six months the first husband obtained the ring by strategy, and then had but to wish his wife back and she was again by his side in the golden palace of the sea, which is the spring moon.

That ring of Andvari was called the Bale of men, the ring of the Elf King, and a curse went with it.

The above story is easily explained. The serpent king is the winter moon, the owner of the jewel and he is Hades, sometimes brother and sometimes uncle to the sun prince, and that gem is his crown jewel. This old uncle is the school master who educated the young prince. He is Chiron the Centaur, the master of masters and is obliged every spring to give up the jewel to the summer king as Jason compels him to give up the Golden Fleece, and as Sigurd, the Volsung, compels the serpent to give up the winter hoard of gold; as Hercules compels him to give up the golden apples of Eden, that golden palace built in the middle of the sea in one night, is the new moon of spring built in the middle of the blue sea of the moon. His bride is but the feminine form of himself, her two golden hairs were the two forks of the moon floating down to winter or the underworld, the herald and presage of her doom. She had to become the Proserpine and bride of the winter king. The ring is kept concealed in the mouth of the wise woman, her witch aunt, that is shut in the dark moon and that ring must be obtained before the princess can be released. It cannot be kept longer than spring-time, for it has power over all things and will burst the iron chamber and break the chains of darkness, for it is the rod of life and will restore the golden maiden and golden fleece. That wise woman and aunt was the third fate who severs the thread of the year— that ring was removed from the finger of the princess as Sigurd, the Volsung, removed the summer ring from the hand of Brynhild.

In the Volsung Saga, this ring was called the "seed of gold and of grief;" it was an elf ring and wrought by the dwarfs, the pigmies down in the depths of the moon mines. This gold was the seed of gold to the wise and shapers of things, and the hoarders of hidden treasures, but the seed of woe to the world and the short-lived race of the earth.

The seed of gold is the nugget which survives the conflagration of the moon, and was called the seed of gold, for it grew to fill the moon, and was the glory of rings from which a new ring was added every night; it grew for fourteen nights and then came the black Rakshasa and devoured the fingers of the moon, one every night.

This ring possessed by Odin, the chief god of the Scandinavians, was called Draupner, or drop ring, for it dropped a ring of light every night.

To find out how much pure gold there was in the moon it was put into a crucible and melted up, a tentative method to find how much remained unalloyed, and in the slaked ashes, after it had cooled, it was found that the little ring we call the new moon was all that survived the crucial test.

These were the rings which Aaron, the priest, collected from his congregation, the gift of the sun and moon, which had floated clown since the first ring was wrought to mark the beginning of time, and he put them in this old iron pot of the moon which was kept for smelting purposes and melted them up, and, behold! there came out a golden calf, for as the moon wore horns and was the giver of the dews, the milk and wine of heaven, she was likened to a cow and this was her young calf, and it had been the custom from of old to celebrate the event with festivity, and with dance and song.

When the regeneration of the season occurred in Taurus, the sign of the Bull under the old Tauric system, the new-born child of the sun and the moon was called a calf, but when it occurred later under the sign Aries or the Ram, we find the Media, the moon sorceress, cut the old ram of the year in pieces, which were put in the same moon caldron and reborn as a lamb. The bull worship was well nigh universal, among the civilized nations of the earth, and very popular with our Druidical ancestors of Britain and the Isle of Man. Anciently Mona, or Moon Island, was the favorite seat of worship, and near it is situated a little island still called the Calf.

The moon was the mighty Prahlada, son of Hiranga Kasipu, a righteous man whom fire could not burn, who died not when pierced with weapons, thrown in the sea, overwhelmed with rocks, bitten by venomous snakes, hurled from the mountain crest, cast in the flames; though deadly poisons were administered by the servants of the King, he still remained unhurt.

Sigurd the Volsung drew out his treasure of the moon and loaded it upon his horse, Greyfell. It was that bed of treasure we see the golden nugget lying in the dark cavern of the moon; it is as a floor or bed of the moon sea, on which the black serpent slept all winter hoarding the treasure. He slew the serpent Fafnir and took the gold and scattered it abroad in golden sunshine every spring.

"Bind the red rings, O Sigurd; bind up to cast abroad! That the earth may laugh before thee rejoiced by the waters Hoard." Sigurd, Volsung, B. Regin, p. 111.

That new moon is Proteus, the "first form" or principle, the Pramantha, the Prometheus, not born to die.

The warrior wore ring-mail.

He is Nereus (ner "lamp" cruden) Neriah, lamp of the Lord.

The first ring of the new moon. That ring was called "the seed of gold and of grief;" in the Norse epic was the ring of Andvari, the dwarf, the ring that covered the door of the moon vault where the golden treasures were buried in winter.

The sun prince wed the moon every spring with th golden ring; it was cast in the sea like the Jonah, and the third day floated upon the waters.

The dramatic representation of this was enacted on Ascension Day when the Doge of Venice wed the waters of the Adriatic with a gold ring cast into the waters saying, "We espouse thee, O sea, as a token of our perpetual dominion over thee."

A heavy gold ring was kept in the temple by the Norsemen upon which the holy oath was sworn, having been previously dipped in the blood of the sacred animals offered up to the god Frey.

It is the ring Draupner which Odin placed on the funeral pyre of Balder when he and his wife Nanna lay dead.

Even the god Odin gave a ring oath.

As chief ring it drops the other rings or creates the other rings of the moon; it is the seed ring. That one seed ring grew to fill the moon.

Busk, Rome, and the goldsmiths and alchemists were summoned to learn the history of this ring and at the end of seven days declared, "We find, O King, that this ring is made of gold which comes from afar and is the workmanship produced in the Kingdoms of the west.

It is the first ring of the new moon which is always forged in the western smithy of the moon. It never appears but in the west where the Telchines or metal workers are seen working in that shop of the moon amid fire and smoke—that is fairyland and these workmen are the dwarfs and forgers.

Gen. 15:17, and it came to pass that when the sun went down and it was dark, behold a smoking furnace and a burning lamp that passed between those pieces; that is the smoking furnace; it is that smelting house or smithy where the weapons and cutlery of the gods and the rings and bracelets and the necklaces and girdles were wrought by the dwarfs, the Telchines and Dactyli who were metal forgers and great sorcerers, part of them worked a spell, those of the left and those on the right broke the spell of enchantment—in the above account of the vision of Abraham, the sun had gone down and it was dark and the lamp of the new moon passed between the smoking furnace of the dark moon and the sun which had gone down.

In the northern mythology, Hodur possessed a golden bracelet which he had taken from the giant Hrimthursi. The thickness of this bracelet increased every night, which is the moon on the wax or increase.

The moon was never known to leave the sun until she had recovered her ring and is always seen in the west just after she has escaped the tangle of the sun's rays with the new moon ring upon her finger and her ship steaming on after the sun under a cloud of smoke.

The sun dare not refuse the gift for the moon was the great timekeeper of the sky and time would unravel and run backward.

And again she was the fountain where the sun water his horse at the water trough of the moon.

King Solomon had a signet ring with the hidden name of God engraved upon it. This gave him authority ov the genii and evil spirits—but an evil spirit obtained this, and assuming Solomon's shape, altered the law for forty days—they were the forty days of temptation in spring. This evil spirit is the winter brother of King Solomon. They both look alike in appearance but the winter moon has the evil eye; he is the destroyer and turns to stone, but the spring moon is life-giving.

The sun king takes the light off the moon—takes the old ring off and puts a new ring on her finger or sends it back to the moon, or sometimes they exchange rings as pledges. The sun takes the last bright ring off the moon's finger, and on the third day replaces or puts his own in its place—the ring will fit anywhere an always contracts or expands to accommodate itself to the size of the moon, like the ship Skidbladnir.

King Arthur had on his finger a ring, the gift of the fairy Vivian le Fay, or the Lady of the Lake, by which she held him a prisoner in the forest of enchantment. This ring caused him to lose reason and memory, an the enchantment could only be broken by the removal of the ring.

It is the winter ring of the moon cold and insensible; it will hold its captive bound until removed by the life-giving warmth of spring.

The "ancients used to represent Promotheus with a ring of iron," (Pliny, B. 33, ch. 4), which means the ring of winter, like the iron mask of the prisoner of the Bastile.

In the Seventeenth Century a Jewish bridegroom sent to his bride the day before the wedding a girdle with a golden buckle. And she sent one in exchange with a silver buckle (the sun is golden and the moon silver) and the bridegroom walked three times around the bride and took her by the right hand in the way the sun walks three times around the moon on the three dark nights of the moon before he gives her his hand, which is the wedding ring.

This ring was given to embassadors, generals and state messengers, which was a passport to foreign kings by which they might be recognized at a foreign court, in the same way as it was carried by the moon, Mercury, as messenger and ambassador of the gods, that he might be identified at foreign courts when challenged at the gate on entering every new constellation in the circuit of the Zodiac.

Pharaoh took off this ring and put it upon the hand of Joseph. By this he delegated his authority, and when a pope dies his ring is broken.

For a list of all of my disks and ebooks (PDF and Amazon) click here

Friday, January 26, 2018

Under the Shadow of a Ghost (Death and Beyond) by W. D. Gunning 1885


Under the Shadow of a Ghost, by W. D. Gunning 1885

We walk in the light; but shadows from primeval ghosts, cast along the slope of centuries, lie athwart our path. The age is haunted by spectral things and men. The Japanese put the sign of water—a letter of their alphabet—on a house, in the belief that the sign is as efficacious against fire as the thing signified. On the house in Japan falls the most attenuated shadow of the most filmy ghost,—a figment of the child~thought of the race. In our own times, it is not uncommon in Nova Scotia to draw on a barn the form of a woman representing a witch, and shoot it, in the belief that hitting the sign hurts the woman signified.

Max Muller has called attention to the comparisons in the oldest of hymns, the Rig Veda:—

"He runs--not a river,
He roars--not a thunder
."

The fathers of our race, men who wrote these Vedic hymns, looked on the world where it is wrinkled into awful grandeur,—domes, spires, serrated ridges robed in eternal snow, and spanned by a heaven whose thunders shook the minds of men, and seemed to shake the very domes of granite. The listening mind called thunder the roarer; wind, the howler; a river, the runner; a mountain, the breather; and the all-investing heaven, the enfolder. All things lived and acted. The mind, uttering itself in prayers and hymns, did not personify objects. It tried to “dispersonate." The Vedic poet, if he had known a ship. would not have written as Byron wrote,—

It walks the water like a thing of life."

He would have written,—

It walks the water, not a thing of life."

The form of comparison would show that his ancestors had regarded the ship as a thing of life.

The American Indian calls the bear or the beaver his brother. The Fiji Islander calls man “long pig." The negro thinks the chimpanzee is a man, somewhat damaged in the creation. These phases of thought in arrested races are survivals of a primitive cult common to all races. The movement of the mind has been to separate animate from inanimate things, and then man from other animate forms. Separation in the mind of all but the lowest tribes would seem to be complete; but there lingers a vague feeling that, in some way, the qualities of an object inhere in its symbol or semblance. So Japan would protect against fire by building the symbol of water into her houses. How much wiser are we? We build our temples in Japan, and insure against the fires of sheol with the sign of water. I have heard of a man in the South (colored) who never thoroughly believed the story of the flood and the ark till he saw a little model of Noah and the ark and the animals. “In sacris simulata pro veris accipi." In matters of religion, we accept the symbol for the reality.

Images of oxen sustained the brazen sea in the temple of Jerusalem, and horns of oxen were represented at the angles of the ark. In the wilderness, the Hebrews had worshipped a young ox, in gold. In Dan, they worshipped Jacob as an ox. In Jerusalem, the grossness of the old cult had faded into mere symbolism. The calf of the wilderness and the ox of Dan had all gone but the horns. Today, when the suppliant prays that he may “seize the horns of the altar," his mind is in the penumbra of a shadow cast over the Church by ancient Judaism. We walk in the shadow cast by ancient beliefs, and we walk in the shadow of ancient ghosts.

Do we toll the bells while a funeral procession is passing? From time immemorial, the Chinese have fired crackers and pounded gangs to confuse and bewilder the ghost, so that it could not find its way back to the house of the living. The Romans rang bells at a funeral for the same purpose. Certain savages try to conceal from the ghost the course which led to the grave. In parts of Europe, the procession marches to the grave by a circuitous route. The reason is the attempt of the ancient man to bewilder the ancient ghost.

The ancient man believed that the ghost could not rise from the grave through a stone, and he piled on the grave such stones as he could handle. The tombstone has come to us through a long inheritance, and its function has changed from repression to commemoration. The ancient man thought, and many savages still think, that the ghost cannot jump over a fence. To this though, we may owe the iron gratings and stone walls which mar the cemeteries of Christendom. The ancient man determined that, if the ghost did escape his trammels and wander the earth, he should not disturb him, he should not know him. It is said that the Bohemians to this day mask themselves at a funeral. The Romans, at a funeral, assumed other manners and put on other attire than was their wont. We put on mourning; and—-we shudder at the thought—-the root of the custom may be found in ancient Rome and modern Bohemian-—the wish to disguise ourselves from our dear friend, the ghost.

The ancient man believed that the ghost could not walk over flinty shards. The most ancient graves in England. the barrows, are found to have been covered with sharp stones, to cut the feet of the poor ghost who would wander. Shakespeare makes the priest say that, but for the compulsion of royalty, he would cover the grave of Ophelia with sharp stones. Dr. Holmes, in his ode to Burns, says,—

"I fling my pebbles on the cairn
Of him, though dead, undying.
"

If these lines had been written in Europe a few hundred years ago, they would have meant: “I conform to custom. When I pass the cemetery, I throw a pebble on the grave of the man whose name I sing. I do this to bruise his feet, if he attempts to wander forth.”

The ancient man believed that a ghost could not pass through fire. He attempted to bar the spirit by encircling the grave with fire, cinders, ashes. The Romans, returning from a grave, walked over fire. It is said that the Euthenian today, on returning from a funeral, looks at fire. This is the highest attenuation of a superstition.

The man of ancient times believed that a ghost could-not cross sunlit water. A sunless river he could pass, and Hindu and Greek mythology had their Styx. The same river reappears in Norse mythology; and, in Christian hymnology, we have

Death's cold stream."

Living water was a bar to the primitive ghost. The idea of barring the ghost by water still lives in the mind of the savage and in the folk-lore of the Christian:—

Now do thy speedy utmost, Meg,
And win the key-stane o’ the brig:
There at them thou thy tail may toss,
A running stream they dare na cross
."

Alaric, the Goth, played havoc among men, and sent thousands prematurely over the Styx. The historian tells us that, when he died, his countrymen turned the course of the Busento, buried him in its bed, and then turned the river back into its channel. It is as if they had said: “The world has had enough of you. You are dead; and, by all the gods of Gothland, you shall stay dead." Pathetic was the effort of a nation to lay the ghost of a king. Equally pathetic is the effort of a Metamba woman to lay the ghost of a husband. The widow plunges into water to drown or drive away the ghost of the husband who may still be clinging to her.

The ancient man seems to have found that the ghost was often too much for him. Neither crackers nor gougs nor bells nor fire nor water nor shards of flint would always keep the ghost in the grave. Men resorted to bribery. Money was given to the ghost to keep him down. The very ancient Greek put a coin in the mouth of the dead to pay Charon for ferrage over the Styx. The Chinese still give money to the ghost; but—-shame on these sons of the Sun!-—it is counterfeit. The Greeks gave bread and wine and fruit to the ghost, to induce him to stay in the grave; but, in time, the Greek, too, learned how to cheat. The poor ghost wanted bread, and they gave him a stone. Loaves and fruit in terra cotta have lately been found in Greek graves. What is very strange is that, in some of these graves, we find beautiful terra-cotta women with their heads broken off! Regnet’s explanation is the only plausible one. As, in very early times, real bread and fruit were buried with the dead, so real women were killed and buried with a dead chief. In later times, when terracotta bread was imposed on the common dead, the mighty dead were cheated with terracotta women. The women were properly slain. They were decapitated. I know of nothing in the ancient man quite so mean as the attempt to cheat a ghost with a stone woman.

This is a dismal story,-—this of the ancient man contending against the ancient ghost. It would have no place on any page of mine but for the lesson it teaches. How did man come by his belief in an afterlife? This belief, we have been saying, was born of hope. We were wrong. At the portals of the tomb sat, not the winged form of Hope, but the grim dragon of Dread. The earliest Greek did not dream of Elysian fields for the dead. He thought of the dead as doomed

To wander ‘mid shadows a shadow,
And wail by impassable streams
."

As dismal as Erebus was sheol. We have gained nothing by taking sheol for hell. Better an eternity of nothingness than an hour of sheol or Erebus. So tristful (sad) to the ancient man seemed the dead that his chief thought was to bar them, and so prevent the gloom of the underworld from devouring this. So tristful was the life of the dead that the very thought of it quenched the light of love in the living. A mother who had followed a child to the grave would return and place before the door a blade or vessel of water, to cut the feet or drown the body of the returning “loved one." She believed that a dead child or husband might be standing at her door day and night, in summer heat or winter storm, and, with chilled limbs and bleeding feet, might be wailing and howling to get back once more into the house; but dread had killed pity, and the ghost might shiver and bleed and howl forever. In “Measure for Measure," Claudio says,—

Death is a fearful thing,"

And Isabella,—

"And shamed life a hateful."

Then, Claudio, preferring a shameful life to death, expresses, save in the first line which is agnostic,—expresses the feeling of the ancient man:—

"Ay, but to die, and go we know not where,
To lie in cold obstruction and to rot,
This sensible warm motion to become
A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
In thrilling region of thick-ribbèd ice,
To be imprisoned in the viewless winds,
And blown with restless violence round about
The pendent world; or to be worse than worst
Of those that lawless and incertain thought
Imagine howling—'tis too horrible.
The weariest and most loathed worldly life
That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment
Can lay on nature is a paradise
To what we fear of death.
"

Men believed in what they did not want. They believed in an after life of unspeakable horror,— the doom of all men, good as well as bad. The ancient man believed this because he was haunted by the ancient ghost.


Utopia: Dream into Nightmare

A former lecturer in philosophy at Tufts College, Dr. Winston has written extensively in the field of history. His most recent book is No Man Knows My Grave: Privateers and Pirates, 1665-1715.
Plato fathered the first blueprint of a planned society, and his descendants still clasp us in a sticky embrace while they rifle our freedoms. His Republic mapped out a spartan state run by benevolent philosophers, defended by a secondary caste of warriors, and supplied with the necessities of life by a mass of farmer artisans whose only political role was to obey. He did away with two obstacles to the ordered state: private property and the family. In the Republic each citizen performs that task for which he is fitted; the lowly toiler’s ignorance is his bliss; and all parts of the body politic function together in well-oiled harmony.
Thomas More’s Utopia (Greek for "noplace") in 1516 gave the name to this whole type of literature. A spate of others followed: Andreae’s Christianopolis (1619), Campanella’s City of the Sun (1623); Bacon’s New Atlantis (1627), to cite a few; then a growing flood rising from the French Revolution and spreading amidst the industrial turmoil of the nineteenth century (Edward Bellamy’s Looking Backward, 1888, being the most popular); and on to our own day in such projections of the future as H.G. Wells’ Modern Utopia (1905) and B.F. Skinner’s Walden Two (1948).
They number by the score, and their variety in detail is as great. The majority rely on rule by an aristocracy of merit, a few try to preserve a modicum of democracy; most are communistic, but one at least (Hertzka’s Freelands, 1890) recognizes self-interest as basic and aims to save capitalism by restraint on overproduction. They may be secular or religious, agricultural or industrial, favorable to education or distrustful of it, resolutely egalitarian or frankly hierarchical.
Common Assumptions
However, certain elements of these multiform visions emerge with such frequency that they deserve our attention. The utopian pictures a static society in which careful planning solves every major problem of human life. Faith is placed in a collectivity that owns or controls all property. Competition for markets or jobs vanishes. Family ties diminish, and the rearing of children by the state is taken for granted. Everything is rationally ordered by those most capable of doing so: Plato’s guardians, More’s king and his advisers, Bacon’s Solomon’s House scientists, Bellamy’s industrial council, Wells’ austere samurai, Saint-Simon’s Council of Newton, Campanella’s quartet of superior men, Skinner’s panel of psychologists.
In utopia everyone works, the women on equal terms with the men. Hours are short — four to six daily—and retirement as early as age fifty, but the wants of the people have a stoic simplicity, and all enjoy a decent living. There is little to quarrel over, the atmosphere is uniformly brotherly, crime is almost unknown and disease rare — a perfect whole of perfect parts, all supremely content. "Utopia," the noplace, is plainly "eutopia" the happy place.
But how to get there? Utopians had no answer to that, and avoided the question. They sprang their flawless states fullarmed from the inkpot, always somewhere else — a distant island, an obscure wilderness, another planet — or at a dim future time. The transition from a callous, exploitive society, its people already deformed by prevalent evil, to one of affection and universal sharing, struck the utopians dumb. Their residue of hope rested in a double view of human nature. They mixed these two elements at will, for each one favored a regeneration of man’s sorry existence. In one they saw man fundamentally good (but perverted by a debasing environment); in the other they saw man quite plastic, molded to the last detail by his surroundings. Either way, the right society would very quickly set men right.
A combination of circumstances after 1800 convinced social idealists that the time was ripe for bringing heaven to earth. The French Revolution had produced a new crop of theorists, the long hours and short pay of the early factory system promised to grind down the poor, and overseas the American republic offered a haven for all who wanted to try something better than mankind had ever known. "Our fathers have not seen it," said Saint-Simon; "our children will arrive there one day, and it is for us to clear the way for them."
American Experiments
The result was more than 130 attempts to establish utopian societies in the United States during the nineteenth century. A ferment of change filled the air, even in staid New England. "We are all a little wild here with numerous projects of social reform," Emerson wrote to Carlyle. "Not a reading man but has a draft of a new community in his waistcoat pocket." Many of the settlements were European in origin as well as theory; some seeking escape from religious persecution, others imbued with recent secular plans for utopia; but all drawn by the cheap land of the American frontier and the easy tolerance of the young republic that had thrown off the shackles of old Europe and considered itself the vehicle of the new age. At last the utopians had before them something very like the fabulous island of the old dreamers. In America they could found minuscule states, as self-sufficient as possible, based on common ownership of property, filled with the brotherly spirit, and isolated from contamination by the outside world. "Our ulterior aim," said young Charles Dana of Brook Farm, "is nothing less than heaven on earth."
As might be expected, some of these starry-eyed experiments were simply preposterous. At Fruitlands that "tedius archangel" Bronson Alcott would not harness workhorses to the plow (unnatural), nor allow sugar (reaped by slaves), nor wear woolen cloth (robbed from sheep), nor spread manure on the fields (filthy stuff), nor burn whale-oil lamps (from slaughtered whales). Shakers led by an illiterate factory girl hailed as "Ann the Word" were strictly celibate, and regulated the lives of the faithful down to such details as what shoe to put on first in dressing, and which trouser leg to step into. An irresistible little fellow in Michigan got himself proclaimed James I of Zion by 2,000 adherents and five wives; "King Benjamin" of the House of David announced that he was the younger brother of Jesus Christ; the final verdict in the early days of the Amana settlement rested with an oracular Werkzeug whose utterances came straight from God; the ruler of a Florida colony taught that we all live inside the earth, our feet on its inner surface. The Lake Erie  Brotherhood of the New Life gave major attention to the sisterhood, in the belief that: "Soul-life and sex-life are at one, In the Divine their pulses run."
Robert Owen and Charles Fourier
Founders of other perfectionist settlements were more sincere and a bit less silly. Robert Owen, a successful English textile manufacturer, believed community of property essential to the good life, and was sure that the individual is totally shaped by his environment. In 1825 he bought up the extensive holdings of a religious community that was moving from Harmony, Indiana. The 900 who flocked in at his open invitation seemed to Owen’s son a "heterogeneous collection of radicals, enthusiastic devotees to principle, honest latitudinarians and lazy theorists, with a sprinkling of unprincipled sharpers thrown in." Owen’s communal system gave full vent to their shabby ways. They couldn’t run anything properly—flour mill, saw mill, tannery or smithy—and their only solution to problems of production was to write another constitution or make another speech. The industrious soon tired of supporting the idle. From the Nashoba, Tennessee Owenite settlement, leader Frances Wright informed Owen that "cooperation has nigh killed us all," and departed. Within two years every Owenite venture, fourteen in all, disintegrated.
Disciples of the unsmiling Frenchman Charles Fourier set up no less than twenty-seven American experiments. Fourier based his utopian ideal less on man’s malleability than on his fundamental goodness. The twelve passions, which he carefully listed and classified, would act in perfect harmony with each other and with society as a whole if given a chance. Let people gather into phalanxes" of some 2,000 members, housed communally in one huge "phalanstery" lying in a spread of 1,600 acres owned in common. Let each choose the work he wished to do. Pay the highest wage for disagreeable but necessary labor, less for the more attractive, and least for work that was downright pleasurable. Bring all goods produced to a single warehouse, where they could be purchased with worktickets. In Fourier’s ample vision all mankind would finally be gathered into three million phalanxes, coordinated by an Omniarch in Constantinople.
Fourier-inspired communes quickly died of dissension, ineptitude, and sheer tomfoolery. An attempt to use some Fourier principles dealt the final blow to the most charming and humane of all the utopian experiments, Brook Farm. The Farm was owned in shares; it intended to support itself by voluntary labor at an equal wage for all (ten cents an hour), and have plenty of time left over for culture. Some choice souls sought refuge there: The Rev. George Ripley, founder; Nathaniel Hawthorne, who soon discovered that forking manure ten hours a day was not conducive to literature; George Curtis, later to edit Harper’s; and Isaac Hecker, a humble German who became a priest and instituted the Paulist Fathers. Good families sent their boys down to be prepared for Harvard at the Farm school.
Into this idyllic but financially precarious community of like minds swept a voluble enthusiast for Fourier, Albert Brisbane. He convinced them that their happy anarchy wouldn’t work. They must organize. Tasks were specialized on Fourier principles; a Sacred Legion took on the dirtier jobs; unequal wages replaced equal pay; work became compulsory; uneducated artisans came in with their ignorant and sharp-tongued wives; and before long the genial spirit that had held Brook Farm together evaporated. Six years after its beginning in 1841 the Farm was sold to West Roxbury (Mass.) for an alms house, thus passing, in the words of one observer, from "the highest ideal" to "the lowest actual."
Two That Remain
Two utopian communes have the distinction of remaining, though much altered, to the present day. In 1848 John Humphrey Noyes settled fifty one Perfectionists along Oneida Creek near Utica, New York, an area so filled with fiery religious fanatics that wits called it "the burned over district." A slab chinned fellow with a scraggly beard and bleating voice, Noyes was nevertheless personally impressive, and a canny manager of people. He quipped that too many agricultural communes had "run aground," and set out to make Oneida industrial. The growing membership (an average of 250) canned farm produce for the market, made traveling bags and a special type of steel trap, spun silk, silver plated dinnerware, and prospered.
Noyes’ word was law. He rested it on divine inspiration, and exerted pressure so gently that no one thought him despotic. The individual at Oneida had no life apart from the community — property in common, personal acts under common scrutiny, sexual sharing on the theory that monogamy was un-Christian "claiming." The women said that they belonged to God first and Noyes next, an order of precedence that they in fact reversed. A system of selective breeding called "stirpiculture" admitted only the most fit to parenthood. Children lived apart, rarely seen by their parents.
For thirty years Oneida adhered to the original plan. By 1880 Noyes had aged; the religious spirit that he had evoked flickered; the young revolted at the idea of sharing spouses and surrendering their children. The commune converted to a joint stock company in an effort to avoid collapse, but its old habits were too ingrained. In 1890 P.B. Noyes, one of the founder’s "stirpiculture" sons (he sired ten) saved the community by transforming it into a typical well run American business. He concentrated on silverware, cut costs, emphasized teamwork, hustled, advertised, and competed. Today Oneida differs in no essential from any other enlightened manufacturing firm.
Where Oneida chose industry, the Amana community of Iowa remained rural, and even more pervasively religious. Eight hundred Germans of the "True Inspiration" sect established it in 1854 on 26,000 choice acres, seven villages spread in a circle around the central one. Every member surrendered all his capital to the common fund (if he left, he got it back with interest) and in return was guaranteed his necessities for life. Under the rule of church elders the maxim, "obey, without reasoning, God, and through God your superiors," kept members in line. Amana supplied its own needs — weavers, cobblers, tailors, watchmakers, pharmacies, print shop — and exported only high grade woolen cloth. As much as possible the members ignored the world around them, even hiring outsiders to serve in the hotel lest their own girls be corrupted.
By 1900 Amana’s piety had waned. Without the invigorating spur of competition the economy lagged badly. In 1932 it became a joint stock company intent on profit. A business manager brought in from the outside trimmed the labor force of its hired hands, closed shops that had run at a loss for years, eliminated fifty two inefficient dining halls, sold businesses into private hands and houses to their occupants. Still quaint and quiet today, Amana is a producing and marketing cooperative, without a vestige of its former communism.
American experiments that went under in two years, as many did, had too large a proportion of misfits whose record outside was one of steady failure. Intimacy bred discord, as people living too close together bumped each other at every turn. The absence of competition resulted in lethargy. None of these eccentrics had any business sense; the purchase of a 300-acre tract in Pennsylvania, for example, was made in midwinter snows by an artist, a doctor and a cooper, and turned out to be rocklands and that had to be abandoned in a year. The Ruskin colony in Tennessee (1894) was ruined by an agent who took such pleasure in making a sale that he sold regularly at a loss. Occasionally plain chicanery was too much for the innocent: the Rev. Adin Ballou lost his "miniature Christian republic" at Hopedale when one of his Christians bought up enough shares to force everyone else out. Worse, the utopians misread human nature. "If men were angels," remark the Federalist Papers, "no government would be necessary." The utopians discovered to their sorrow that men are not angels now, nor can be so shaped.
Displaced by the Welfare State
While these sad little failures gathered dust, Americans awoke to the fact that in the welfare state of the western democracies, and more explicitly in communist Russia, utopia had already arrived on a massive scale. The results in this country stirred up a general unease. Every step that added to the individual’s security detracted from his liberty; every move toward the better life exacted its toll. The United States government assumed vast new powers to tax, spend — and regulate the affairs of its citizens. Mass production and the communications media created a bland uniformity, with the flesh and blood breadwinner converted into a Social Security number. Welfare programs that averted gross poverty also robbed the individual of his initiative. Women’s equality did much to skyrocket divorce. The same technological advance that increased abundance polluted the landscape. Nuclear energy was more bomb than blessing. Parents did all they could to make a heaven on earth, and their children kicked them in the stomach for the effort.
The West edged piecemeal toward the planned society; Russia made it in a leap. Marx had revived the utopian dream and promised its fulfillment: abundance of consumer goods, universal happiness, absolute equality, peace at home and abroad, government that would hardly need to govern — a perfect whole of perfect parts. Liberals who had been beguiled by this splendid vision shuddered at the actuality. In Russia the government clamped an iron grip on the people and showed no inclination to let go. Everything was in short supply except armaments. The mildest critic of the regime was branded a traitor, and shipped off to Siberia. Art and science became tools of the Party; news media spewed nothing but the official line; and the calculated lie became a habit. The planned society, dreamed of through the ages, turned out to be the police state.
Americans who had believed in a steady march to the promised land now quailed at the prospect. Once they had yearned for utopia; now they asked themselves, "What can we do to prevent it?"
Antiutopian novels clanged like warning bells in the night. Eugene Zamiatin’s We (1920) was among the first, and dozens followed (if we include science fiction), notably Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World (1932), Vladimir Nabokov’s Bend Sinister (1947) and George Orwell’s 1984 in 1949. They draw a frightening picture of the planned society: its ruthless manipulation by the rulers of the ruled, its grey-faced homogeneity, its stifling of creative change, its reduction of man to a producing and consuming animal, its hideous distortion of truth. Once the masters of this nightmare society are in the saddle, few can escape or even want to.
Human nature, in these anti-utopias, is infinitely malleable; men can be taught to kiss their chains.
Are we all doomed to this? There is reason to doubt it. The anti-utopian sounds a needed alarm, but he badly overplays his hand. He regards the individual as an empty sack into which any rubbish can be poured. Even the lonely rebels of anti-utopian novels are spineless, stupid, or both. D503 of We can build a cosmic machine, but is otherwise a bumbling idiot; Bernard in Brave New World is a sniveling coward; Smith in 1984 is a perverter of truth by vocation and a lovesick ninny on the side; the renowned philosopher Kruger in Bend Sinister has a backbone of rope. In anti-utopia western man has thrown away every vestige of his hard-won rights, to gain a bovine placidity. All the world is content to chew its cud.
Common Sense May Prevail
Such a view undoes history. Western man has shown himself far too stubborn, restless and plain cussed for any such fate. Once the common man has had a full taste of speaking his mind, no one can shut him up for long. Once he is used to the ballot, and the exhilarating experience of throwing the rascals out, he can be deprived of it only under the most extraordinary conditions. Once real power is firmly established at the base of the political pyramid (as it never was in Russia or China), tyranny from the top becomes an outside chance.
This may be faith, but it is a faith worth having. A man’s essence is his hazardous freedom. It is built in, inexpugnable. For it he has fought wars, rioted, hidden in catacombs, gone to the stake, killed kings, languished in prison, and he does not forget. Freedom disrupts old orders, and sometimes gives the impression that everything nailed down is coming loose, but as long as Americans demand it as their right, the horrors of the police state will stay beyond our borders.
***
Umpire
In general, nothing happens except a change in the weather, unless somebody makes it happen. Under a free economic system, the man who makes things happen is called an enterpriser. With his own savings or savings borrowed from others, he goes into farming, manufacturing, mining, or banking, and begins producing goods or moving them around. That much is basic.
Thomas Nixon Carver, the economist, said the reason many countries are backward is that there was nobody who cared to invest in them. Either the government itself was predatory, or thieves and robbers roamed unmolested. In such countries the rich keep their wealth in the form of unproductive goods — gold and jewels — which they can hide and easily transport when things get too tough.
If a nation wants production and prosperity, the persons to encourage are the enterprisers. Not only should they be encouraged to build and produce, but they should be assured that their property and a decent part of their gains are protected against confiscation. If they lose part or all of their savings in the competitive game, they must take the loss and shut up. Government’s main job is to see that the rules are fair and are enforced.
FROM The William Feather Magazine, November, 1971 
Alexander Winston
This article was originally published on FEE.org. Read the original article.

Thursday, January 25, 2018

The Historical Ragnar Lothbrok by Henry Wheaton 1831


The Real Ragnar Lothbrok in History by Henry Wheaton 1831

Join my Facebook Group

See also Norse Mythology and Viking Legends - 115 Books on DVDrom

The remarkable story of this famous adventurer has been so disfigured by conflicting traditions and poetic and romantic fictions, as to exercise all the skill of the historical critics of the North to reconcile its chronology and other circumstances with the accounts given in the Frankish and Anglo-Saxon annals. One thing is certain, that the Ragnar Lodbrok who reigned in Denmark and Sweden in the latter part of the eighth century, could not have been the same chieftain who invaded France and England about the middle of the ninth, and whose sons were the pupils and companions of the celebrated adventurer Hastings. The termination of the reign of Ragnar Lodbrok, son of Sigurdr Ring, cannot be placed later than 794, according to the chronology of Suhm, or 838, according to the Icelandic annals; whilst on the other hand, the death of the Ragnar who invaded Northumbria, and was slain by the Anglo-Saxon king Ella, cannot be carried back further than 862, the year that prince usurped the Northumbrian crown. The resolution of this intricate problem of Northern history, by supposing two adventurers of the same name, seems hardly reconcilable with the Sagas and other ancient Icelandic writings, which speak of one only, and constantly assert the Ragnar Lodbrok who perished in England to be the father of Bjorn Iarnsida, who succeeded him in Sweden, and Sigurd Snogoje who reigned in Scania and Zealand. But it is probable that the chieftain whose exploits have been confounded with those of the more ancient Ragnar, was a prince of Jutland, whose real name was Reginfred, or Ragenfred, and who, having been expelled from his dominions during the reign of Harald Klak, became a sea-king, and subsequently invaded France during the reign of Louis-le-Debonnaire.

However this may be, all the original documents, both national and foreign, agree in the main circumstances of the invasion of Northumbria by Ragnar Lodbrok, and of his cruel death, which was afterwards so savagely avenged by his sons or kindred. The English chronicles relate that in 793, the monastery of St Cuthbert in the isle of Lindisfarn, on the coast of Northumbria, near the Scottish border, was plundered by a band of Pagan adventurers from Norway and Denmark; and that in the following year a fleet of Vikingar was wrecked on the same coast, and the prince by whom it was commanded taken prisoner and put to death in a cruel manner by the natives. The famous lay called the Lodbrokar-Quida or Biarka-mal, the death song of Ragnar Lodbrok, relates his ravaging the coast of Scotland, and his battle with three kings of Erin at Lindis-Eiri. But king Ella began to reign in Northumberland seventy years afterwards, and it would seem that this apparent anachronism can only be reconciled by the supposition that the Ella spoken of in the Icelandic Sagas was some other Saxon prince of that name, all those of the blood royal being called kings by the Saxons, and Ella being a name so general, that the Skalds familiarly term Englishmen in general, the race of Ella, Ello-kind.

We are told in the Sagas, that Ragnar ruled his realms in peace, ignorant, as well as his queen Aslauga, in what regions his sons then were. But the rumours of their exploits reached his ear, his jealousy was excited, and he determined to set forth an expedition that should rival their fame. For this purpose he ordered two vessels of immense size to be built, such as had never before been seen in the North. In the mean time, 'the arrow,' the signal of war, being sent through all his kingdom, summoned his Champions to arms, and his fleet was soon equipped and filled with warriors. With this apparently inadequate force, he set sail, contrary to the advice of Aslauga, to attack that part of England which had formerly been the scene of the exploits of his predecessors, Ivar Vidfadme, Harald Hildetand, and Sigurdr Ring. The expedition was driven back again to port by a tempest, when the queen repeated her warning, and accompanied it with the gift of a magical garment, to ward off danger. Ragnar again put to sea, and was at last shipwrecked on the English coast. In this emergency his courage did not desert him, but he pushed forward with his small band to ravage and plunder. Ella collected his forces to repel the invader. Ragnar, clothed with the enchanted garment he had received from his beloved Aslauga, and armed with the spear with which he had slain the guardian serpent of Thora, four times pierced the Saxon ranks, dealing death on every side, whilst his own body was invulnerable to the blows of his enemies. His friends and Champions fell one by one around him, and he was at last taken prisoner alive. Being asked who he was, he preserved an indignant silence. Then king Ella said:—"If this man will not speak, he shall endure so much the heavier punishment for his obduracy and contempt." So he ordered him to be thrown into the dungeon full of serpents, where he should remain till he told his name. Ragnar, being thrown into the dungeon, sat there a long time before the serpents attacked him; which being noticed by the spectators, they said he must be a brave man indeed whom neither arms nor vipers could hurt. Ella, hearing this, ordered his enchanted vest to by stripped off, and, soon afterwards, the serpents clung to him on all sides. Then Ragnar said, "how the young cubs would roar if
they knew what the old boar suffers," and expired with a laugh of defiance.

The Northern Skalds, not satisfied with this sufficiently romantic account of the fate of Ragnar Lodbrok, have put into his mouth an heroic lay, or death-song, which they suppose him to have composed and sung in this dreadful prison. The first twenty-three strophes of this song, the whole of which has reached our times, probably constituted the war-song of Ragnar and his followers. It gives an account of his sea-roving expeditions and exploits in various lands. The remaining strophes were probably added after the death of the king, and may have been composed, as some assert, by his queen Aslauga, or Kraka, or else by some of the Contemporary or later Skalds. They express, in the strongest manner, the feelings by which the Northern warrior was notoriously actuated, and some of the expressions are substantially the same which history attributes to Ragnar on this occasion, the style only being more poetical.

The last strophe of this lay may be rendered as follows:—

'Cease my strain! I hear Them call
Who bid me hence to Odin's hall!
High seated in their blest abodes
I soon shall quaff the drink of Gods.
The hours of Life have glided by—
I fall! but laughing will I die!
The hours of Life have glided by—
I fall! but laughing will I die

For a list of all of my disks and ebooks click here