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St。   Olaf;   indeed;   forced   Christianity   on   the   Norse   at   the   sword's   point; 

often by horrid cruelties; and perished in the attempt。                    But who forced it 

on the Norsemen of Scotland; England; Ireland; Neustria; Russia; and all 

the    Eastern     Baltic?     It   was    absorbed      and    in  most    cases;    I  believe; 

gradually and willingly; as a gospel and good news to hearts worn out with 

the   storm  of   their   own   passions。       And   whence   came   their   Christianity? 

Much   of   it;   as   in   the   case   of   the   Danes;   and   still   more   of   the   French 

Normans;        came    direct    from    Rome;     the   city   which;    let  them     defy   its 

influence as they would; was still the fount of all theology; as well as of all 

civilisation。       But     I  must     believe    that    much     of   it  came     from     that 

mysterious ancient Western Church; the Church of St。 Patric; St。 Bridget; 

St。   Columba;   which   had   covered   with   rude   cells   and   chapels   the   rocky 

islets of the North Atlantic; even to Iceland itself。                  Even to Iceland; for 

when   that   island   was   first   discovered;   about   A。D。   840;   the   Norsemen 

found in an isle; on the east and west and elsewhere; Irish books and bells 

and wooden crosses; and named that island Papey; the isle of the popes 

some   little   colony  of   monks;   who   lived   by  fishing;   and   who   are   said   to 

have left the land when the Norsemen settled in it。                    Let us believe; for it 

is   consonant   with   reason   and   experience;   that   the   sight   of   those   poor 

monks; plundered and massacred again and again by the 〃mailed swarms 

of   Lochlin;〃   yet   never  exterminated;   but springing   up   again   in the   same 

place; ready for fresh massacre; a sacred plant which God had planted; and 

which   no   rage   of   man   could   trample   outlet   us   believe;   I   say;   that   that 

sight   taught   at   last   to   the   buccaneers   of   the   old   world   that   there   was   a 

purer manliness; a loftier heroism; than the ferocious self…assertion of the 

Berserker;   even   the   heroism   of   humility;   gentleness;   self…restraint;   self… 



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sacrifice; that there was a strength which was made perfect in weakness; a 

glory; not of the sword but of the cross。             We will believe that that was the 

lesson   which   the   Norsemen   learnt;   after   many   a   wild   and   blood…stained 

voyage; from the monks of Iona or of Derry; which caused the building of 

such churches as that which Sightrys; king of Dublin; raised about the year 

1030; not in the Norse but in the Irish quarter of Dublin:                    a sacred token 

of   amity   between   the   new   settlers   and   the   natives   on   the   ground   of   a 

mon faith。         Let us believe; too; that the influence of woman was not 

wanting   in   the   good   workthat   the   story   of   St。   Margaret   and   Malcolm 

Canmore   was   repeated; though   inversely;   in   the   case   of   many  a   heathen 

Scandinavian jarl; who; marrying the princely daughter of some Scottish 

chieftain; found in her creed at last something more precious than herself; 

while his brother or his cousin became; at Dublin or Wexford or Waterford; 

the husband of some saffron…robed Irish princess; 〃fair as an elf;〃 as the 

old saying was; some 〃maiden of the three transcendent hues;〃 of whom 

the old book of Linane says: 

       Red as the blood which flowed from stricken deer; White as the snow 

on   which   that   blood   ran   down;   Black   as   the   raven   who   drank   up   that 

blood; 

       … and possibly; as in the case of Brian Boru's mother; had given his 

fair…haired sister in marriage to some Irish prince; and could not resist the 

spell   of   their   new   creed;   and   the   spell   too;   it   may  be;   of   some   sister   of 

theirs who had long given up all thought of earthly marriage to tend the 

undying fire of St。 Bridget among the consecrated virgins of Kildare。 

     I   am   not   drawing   from   mere   imagination。          That   such   things   must 

have happened; and happened again and again; is certain to anyone who 

knows; even superficially; the documents of that time。                    And I doubt not 

that;   in   manners   as   well   as   in   religion;   the   Norse   were   humanised   and 

civilised by their contact with the Celts; both in Scotland and in Ireland。 

Both   peoples   had   valour;   intellect;   imagination:          but   the   Celt   had   that 

which   the   burly   angular   Norse   character;   however   deep   and   stately;   and 

however   humorous;   wanted;   namely;   music   of   nature;   tenderness;   grace; 



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rapidity; playfulness; just the qualities; bining with the Scandinavian 

(and     in  Scotland     with   the   Angle)    elements     of  character     which    have 

produced; in Ireland and in Scotland; two schools of lyric poetry second to 

none in the world。 

     And so they were converted to what was then a dark and awful creed; 

a creed of ascetic self…torture   and purgatorial   fires   for those  who   escape 

the   still   more   dreadful;   because   endless;   doom   of   the   rest   of   the   human 

race。    But;   because   it   was   a   sad   creed;   it   suited   better;   men   who   had; 

when conscience re…awakened in them; but too good reason to be sad; and 

the   minsters   and   cloisters   which   sprang   up   over   the   whole   of   Northern 

Europe; and even beyond it; along the dreary western shores of Greenland 

itself; are the symbols of a splendid repentance for their own sins and for 

the sins of their forefathers。 

     Gudruna   herself;   of   whom  I   spoke   just   now;   one of   those old   Norse 

heroines who helped to discover America; though a historic personage; is a 

symbolic one likewise; and the pattern of a whole class。                    She too;   after 

many journeys to Iceland; Greenland; and Winland; goes on a pilgrimage 

to Rome; to get; I presume; absolution from the Pope himself for all the 

sins of her strange; rich; stormy; wayward life。 

     Have     you   not   readmany      of  you   surely   haveLa      Motte    Fouque's 

romance      of   〃Sintram?〃      It   embodies     all  that  I  would     say。   It  is  the 

spiritual drama of that early Middle Age; very sad; morbid if you will; but 

true to fact。     The Lady Verena ought not; perhaps; to desert her husband; 

and shut herself up in a cloister。         But so she would have done in those old 

days。     And      who    shall   judge   her   harshly    for   so   doing?     When      the 

brutality of the man seems past all cure; who shall blame the woman if she 

glides   away   into   some   atmosphere   of   peace   and   purity;   to   pray   for   him 

whom       neither   warnings     nor   caresses    will  amend?      It   is  a  sad   book; 

〃Sintram。〃       And yet not too sad。         For they were a sad people; those old 

Norse forefathers of ours。          Their Christianity was sad; their minsters sad; 

there are few sadder; though few grander; buildings than a Norman church。 

     And   yet;   perhaps;   their   Christianity  did   not   make   them  sad。      It   was 



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but   the   other   and   the   healthier   side   of   that   sadness   which   they   had   as 

heathens。       Read     which     you    will   of  the   old   sagasheathen       or   half… 

Christianthe Eyrbiggia; Viga Glum; Burnt Niall; Grettir the Strong; and; 

above   all;   Snorri   Sturluson's   〃Heimskringla〃   itself   and   you   will   see   at 

once how sad they are。           There is; in the old sagas; none of that enjoyment 

of   life   which   shines   out   everywhere   in   Greek   poetry;   even   through   its 

deepest tragedies。        Not   in   placency with   Nature's   beauty; but   in   the 

fierce struggle with her wrath; does the Norseman feel pleasure。                       Nature 

to him was not; as in Mr。 Longfellow's exquisite poem; {3} the kind old 

nurse; to take him on her knee and whisper to him; ever anew; the story 

without   an   end。     She   was   a   weird   witch…wife;   mother   of   storm   demons 

and frost giants; who must be fought with steadily;  warily; wearily;  over 

dreary     heaths    and   snow…capped        fells;  and    rugged    nesses    and    tossing 

sounds; and aw

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