Most of the heroic poems and stories which have come down to us contain elements generally comprehended under the term 'folk-tale' (MÄrchen), and it will be convenient at once to distinguish tales of this class from popular tales in general. Under the latter term we may include all stories which are frequently repeated without being committed to writing. It is on such foundations probably that all the surviving heroic poems are built. The lapse of time between the events narrated and the composition of the poem may amount to weeks or to generations; in certain cases the story may be wholly fictitious—but this does not affect our definition. When a story is put into metrical form by a skilful poet it becomes more or less crystallised and has a good chance of being preserved. In fact the result is somewhat similar to that of committing it to writing. Stories which are not put into poetic form are more liable to become obscured and forgotten.

The term 'folk-tale[164]' is of less wide application. Probably different scholars would define it in different ways; but in this book it is applied only to stories dealing with anonymous characters. The hero or heroine (villain etc.) is described either (1) as 'the man,' 'the girl,' etc., or (2) by some common name such as Jack or Hans, which conveys no means of identification, or (3) by a name which is obviously made to suit his or her special circumstances or characteristics, such as AschenbrÖdel or Sneewitchen. It will be seen that this limitation would not prevent us from regarding stories about the gods as folk-tales in origin; for most of the gods bear descriptive names, e.g. Thunor, Frig, Balder, Frey. Yet by the time of our earliest authorities these names had come to denote definite personalities; and consequently we must classify such stories in a separate category, namely as myths. On the other hand it must not be assumed that the presence of supernatural features, in some form or other, is a necessary characteristic of folk-tales. Such features do indeed occur very frequently; but that is due merely to the fact that in illiterate societies the marvellous has a special attraction for men's minds.

Into the origin of folk-tales in general we need not enter here. Some apparently spring from attempts to account for natural phenomena, social customs or religious rites. Others are probably founded on adventures, real or fictitious, of individuals whose names have been forgotten. Thus, to take an instance, the story of Alfred and the cakes is not a folk-tale according to our standard; but if the king's name had been forgotten we should have no hesitation in regarding it as such. Again, there can be no doubt that many modern folk-tales are derived ultimately from literary sources. In the same way we must regard it as possible that in earlier times many folk-tales were descended from heroic poems.

Prof. Olrik[165] has pointed out that it is possible very often to distinguish between the Danish and Norse sources followed by Saxo in his History. One of the safest criteria is the presence or absence of characters whose names are not given. In stories of Norse origin, as in Old Norse literature generally, it is customary for every character to have a name—a characteristic which also distinguishes the old heroic poetry. In stories derived from Danish sources on the other hand the characters mentioned by name are few in number. A good instance is to be found in the story of Ingellus (Ingeld), which in consequence of the loss of proper names has been torn right away from its true connections—as may be seen by a comparison with Beowulf. Yet there can be little doubt, as we have seen, that this story is ultimately derived from heroic poems. It would appear then that Danish tradition tended to approximate to the folk-tale.

If heroic stories sometimes passed into folk-tales it is still clearer that the latter tended to make their way into heroic stories. We shall see shortly that even the early heroic poems relate a number of incidents which seem to be derived from folk-tales, while in the later forms of the stories such incidents become more and more frequent, most commonly in connection with the childhood or ancestry of the hero. The same phenomenon occurs of course in stories of famous men which have nothing to do with heroic poetry. Thus there is a widely spread folk-tale (told of the god Thor in Old Norse literature), which relates how some animal, a goat, reindeer or calf, is killed and eaten, but care is taken not to break any of its bones. Then on the following day the hero restores the animal to life. In the Historia Brittonum (cap. 32) this story is related of St Germain, the well known bishop of Auxerre.

It is a more difficult question and one which we shall have to discuss later whether any of the heroic stories are wholly derived from folk-tales. The story of Balder bears the stamp of a folk-tale, for the chief characters (Balder, HÖÐr, Nanna) have names with an obvious meaning. But it is only in Saxo's History that this story appears in a heroic setting; and though his account seems to be more primitive in several respects than that given by the Norse authorities, there is some reason for suspecting that either he himself or one of his (comparatively recent) predecessors was responsible for the setting. It should be observed however that the occurrence of one or more names with obvious meanings does not in itself prove that a story is derived from a folk-tale. Thus in the story of HeÐinn and HÖgni the fact that the heroine (in contrast with the other characters) bears a name which means 'war' does not of necessity involve her origin in a folk-tale any more than that of her namesake, the abbess of Whitby.

Apart from the distinguishing feature with which we have been dealing folk-tales as a class have certain general characteristics which may be appreciated by a comparison with those of heroic poetry. In the last chapter (p. 82 f.) we gave a short list of the characteristics by which the latter is specially distinguished. To all these the typical folk-tale presents a marked contrast. Some of the leading characters, including either the hero or the heroine or both, are usually persons of humble birth. The opponents of the hero or heroine tend to be represented as monsters of cruelty or vice, even when they are of royal rank, as is often the case. There is no inclination to avoid horrible or coarse subjects. Above all we miss those detailed descriptions of court life upon which the heroic poems are so fond of dwelling. The life and thought which we find reflected in folk-tales is that not of the court but of the village.

It would of course be rash to assume that folk-tales formed the sole intellectual pabulum of the peasantry in early times. No doubt we have to add 'popular tales,' similar to those which formed the foundation of the heroic poems. But since these tales were not put into poetic form—i.e. not into such poetic form as would ensure their preservation[166]—they were always liable to disintegration and thus were constantly approximating to folk-tales. Hence, though we must make allowance for influence of the one upon the other, it is probably not so very far from the truth that what heroic stories were to the courts folk-tales were to the rest of the population.

In Norway court poetry flourished down to Christian times, though in the generation before the conversion it had come mainly into the hands of Icelanders. But practically nothing is known as to the existence of court poets in Denmark; and here we have, I think, the explanation of the peculiar character of the Danish sources used by Saxo. The old heroic poems had been largely forgotten, and what remained was preserved only in the form of ballads and popular tales—which in some cases practically amounted to folk-tales.

Lastly, we must note that the existence of a folk-tale may sometimes be inferred when we have no knowledge of it in its uncontaminated form. Such is the case (e.g.) when we find the same adventure, especially if it be of a supernatural character, related of several different and unconnected persons, whose historical existence may be quite satisfactorily authenticated. But such inferences must be used with caution, for it is not necessary to suppose that supernatural incidents in heroic stories are always due to the influence of folk-tales. They may often truly reflect the belief of an age which did not clearly distinguish between natural and supernatural. That the supernatural is less prominent in heroic poetry than in folk-tales is due doubtless to the fact that the courts of that period possessed a far higher degree of culture than the rest of the population. The same phenomenon is still more noticeable in Welsh literature than in Teutonic. In the early court poems the supernatural is comparatively little in evidence, whereas in the Mabinogion, which are largely made up of folk-tales, it is developed to a most astounding degree.

Various kinds of supernatural beings are brought before our notice in heroic stories. In the Northern versions the god Othin is introduced not unfrequently. Thus, to give a few instances, the VÖlsunga Saga brings him into contact with Sigmundr on two occasions: first when he enters VÖlsungr's hall at the wedding feast and plants in the tree a sword which Sigmundr alone is able to draw out (cap. 3), and again in his last battle when the hero's sword is shattered at the touch of Othin's javelin (cap. 11). Twice also the same saga makes him meet with SigurÐr: first when he chooses for him the horse Grani (cap. 13), and later when he accompanies him on his way to attack the sons of Hundingr (cap. 17; cf. also cap. 18). In all these cases alike the god's identity is not suspected, at least until after his departure. In the poem ReginsmÁl, from which the last of these incidents is taken, we find also a story of quite a different character and laid wholly in the realm of the supernatural, namely the adventures of the gods Othin, Hoenir and Loki with the otter and the dwarf Andvari. Of other divine or semi-divine beings we may mention HliÓÐ, the daughter of HrÍmnir and adopted daughter of Frigg, who became the wife of VÖlsungr and mother of Sigmundr. As a last instance reference may be made to a passage from the lost BiarkamÁl (Saxo, p. 66), where the hero suspects that Othin is present among the enemy and expresses his desire to attack him.

In the German heroic poems, which are entirely Christian, we find no mention of the gods. Note should be taken however of an incident in the Rabenschlacht (v. 964 ff.), where Witege in his flight from Dietrich gallops into the sea and is rescued by the mermaid WÂchilt. If we were dealing with a Greek story we should regard this person as a goddess without hesitation.

In much earlier times a very good instance is furnished by the legendary history of the Langobardi. According to the story (cf. p. 9 f.) the Langobardi, who were then called Winniles, soon after their emigration from Scandinavia came into conflict with the Vandals. The Origo Gentis Langobardorum, an anonymous tract dating from the latter part of the seventh century, gives the following account of what happened: Ambri and Assi, the leaders of the Vandals, asked Wodan (Godan) that he should give them victory over the Winniles. Wodan replied, saying: "Whomsoever I shall first look upon, when the sun rises, to them will I give victory." Then Gambara with her two sons Ibor and Aio, who were chiefs over the Winniles, asked Fria (Frea), the wife of Wodan, that she should be gracious to the Winniles. Fria then gave counsel that the Winniles should come when the sun rose and that their women should let down their hair about their faces after the fashion of a beard and should come with their husbands. Then, as it became light, while the sun was rising, Fria turned the bed, on which Wodan lay, and put his face to the east and wakened him. And he looked and saw the Winniles and their women with their hair let down about their faces and said: "Who are those long-beards?" And Fria said to Wodan: "As thou hast given them a name, give them also victory." And he gave them victory, etc.

Woden is mentioned also in the Anglo-Saxon poem on the magic herbs, and Ing in the Runic poem. In strictly heroic pieces however the only possible case is the reference to the passionate love of Geat in the Elegy of Deor (v. 15)[167]. Indeed, were it not for the Langobardic story we might perhaps suspect that the introduction of the gods in heroic poetry was a Scandinavian innovation. But as the case stands, although this story cannot properly be regarded as heroic, it is more likely that their non-appearance in the English heroic poems is due to a process of expurgation or elimination. From such passages as Beow. 175 ff. we may infer with probability that no definite reference to the gods would be tolerated after the courts had become Christian (cf. p. 53 f.).

In the poems which have come down to us the supernatural element is represented chiefly by what we may call monsters. This is especially the case in Beowulf, the main part of which is devoted to encounters with such beings. We can hardly obtain a better example than the hero's adventures in the first part of the poem. But it will be well at the outset to guard against the assumption that the story of Beowulf was in any way typical of early heroic poetry. Thus we have no satisfactory evidence that either the story of Waldhere or that of Finn contained supernatural elements of any kind, while even in that of Siegfried they are comparatively unimportant.

The story of Beowulf's adventures with the monsters seems to be derived from a folk-tale. In the Icelandic Grettis Saga, cap. 64-66, the famous outlaw Grettir, who died in 1031, is credited with performing almost the same exploits. The resemblance between the two stories indeed descends in some cases even to small points of detail. These, as well as the points of difference, may best be seen by giving an analysis of the two side by side.

There can scarcely be any doubt that these two stories are connected in some way. Some scholars indeed hold that the Icelandic story is derived from the other; but the discrepancies seem to me to be too great for this to be probable. Moreover there is another Scandinavian story which has to be taken into account. This is contained in Orms ThÁttr Storolfssonar[169], a document which dates from the fourteenth century, and also in later ballads from Sweden and the Faroes. According to the story Ormr was an Icelander who lived towards the end of the tenth century. Like Beowulf and Grettir he had a reputation for laziness in his youth. In his time an island called SauÐey off the coast of Norway was inhabited by the monster Brusi and his mother who had the form of a black cat. One of Ormr's friends, a Dane named AsbiÖrn, lost his life in an attack upon them. Ormr then set out to avenge him. When he reached the monster's den the cat assailed him fiercely with her claws, but he ultimately succeeded in destroying her. Then he had an encounter with Brusi, whose head he tore open with his hands, afterwards cutting the 'blood-eagle' upon his back. In the den he found a large amount of gold and silver. The later forms of the story add several features which recall the adventures of Beowulf, especially in regard to the situation of the den and the cannibalistic propensities of the monsters.

Here again we have in all probability only another form of the same story. But it is to be observed that there is no special affinity between the two Scandinavian versions, while the setting and the names of the characters are entirely different in all three. Yet if one version was really the source of the others it is difficult to believe that every trace of its original connections could have vanished. With far more probability we may conclude that the story once existed independently, i.e. in the form of a folk-tale, and as a matter of fact we possess an Icelandic folk-tale which contains most of the principal features, though the hero has been split up into five brothers[170]. In its original form the tale was probably only a specialised variety of the type familiar to us through Jack the Giant-killer. Stories of this kind seem to have been particularly popular in Norway—a fact due perhaps in part to the survival of isolated savage communities among whom cannibalism may not have been entirely unknown[171]. We meet with them sometimes in quite unexpected places. Thus in the account of ThÓroddr Snorrason's mission to Jemtland in St Olaf's Saga (Heimskr.), cap. 151, we find a graphic and circumstantial story of a female monster who killed and devoured eleven merchants in the inn where the envoy was resting. Thor too, the chief Norwegian deity, came to be regarded essentially as a giant-killer, his origin in the thunder being entirely, or almost entirely, forgotten.

It is no serious objection to our view that Grettir seems to be a perfectly historical character; for no one will contend that the story of his doings at Sandhaugar is true, any more than a number of other exploits with which he is credited. The same remark applies to the story of ThÓroddr, whose father, the magistrate Snorri (Grettir's contemporary), was perhaps the best known and most influential man in Iceland. We have seen that in the true folk-tale the hero is nameless; but his adventures are liable to become linked with the names of historical characters—just as in our own day everyone knows of remarkable persons who have had associated with them stories which really were in existence before their time. In Grettir's case exceptionally favourable conditions for such association were provided by the man's great strength, by the unruly disposition which he showed from his childhood and by the many thrilling adventures which he doubtless did experience during his long outlawry. Indeed, though the saga in its present form was not composed until nearly three centuries after his time, we might naturally expect that many untrue stories about such a person would be in circulation even before his death.

Just as the folk-tale became attached to the historical Grettir, so it may have been associated with another person in earlier times. Now the only character in Northern tradition who has been identified with Beowulf is a certain BoÐvarr Biarki, a warrior in the service of HrÓlfr Kraki. The identification is denied by many scholars, but there are two points in the story of Biarki which seem to me to lend great probability to it. In the first place as Beowulf goes from the land of the Geatas (Gautar), where his uncle is king, to the court of the Danish king Hrothgar, so Biarki goes from the land of the Gautar, where his brother is king, to the court of HrÓlfr Kraki, i.e. Hrothwulf, Hrothgar's nephew and colleague. Secondly, at a later time Biarki, like Beowulf, assists the Swedish prince AÐils (Eadgils) in his victorious campaign against Áli (Onela), though he is represented not as king of the Gautar but as HrÓlfr Kraki's emissary.

On the other hand it is true that no resemblance to the story of Beowulf is shown by the Scandinavian accounts of Biarki's origin and death. In HrÓlfs Saga Kraka[172], which dates only from the fourteenth century, Biarki is said to have been born in Norway. His father was called BiÖrn ('bear') and his mother Bera ('she-bear'). The former indeed was actually turned into a bear by witchcraft. Further, from the time of his arrival in Denmark Biarki remained in the service of HrÓlfr till the end and lost his life in the final attack made upon that king. A reminiscence of his ursine antecedents appears in the last scene. When the enemy are attacking the king's hall Biarki cannot be roused out of slumber, but a huge bear (the warrior's spirit) is seen fighting among the king's knights.

Saxo says nothing about Biarki's origin and it may be that the story given in the saga was unknown in his time. At all events it is doubtless derived from a folk-tale. In the twelfth century Vita et Passio Waldevi[173] almost the same story is told of the father of Siward, the famous earl of Northumbria, who died in 1055, while a further parallel is to be found in the De Gestis Herwardi Saxonis[174], another work of the same period. Both stories contain indications of Scandinavian origin and we can hardly doubt that the motif was a popular one in the folk-tales of the North. Indeed for the version of the story found in HrÓlfs Saga, transformation into animal form through the agency of a wicked stepmother, analogies are to be found in many parts of the world.

In his account of the last fight Saxo quotes at great length from the lost BiarkamÁl; but here again no reference is made to the bear motif[175]. We may note however that in this version no explanation is given of Biarki's behaviour in refusing to rise from his bed in response to the exhortations of his colleague[176]. It is scarcely safe therefore, I think, to assume that Saxo's account—apart from the quotations which consist entirely of speeches—necessarily represents an earlier form of the story than that given in the saga; for in the latter Biarki's conduct is quite satisfactorily explained. There is surely at least as much to be said for supposing that the incident of the bear—or something which gave rise to it—has been ignored or forgotten by Saxo.

Now Beowulf is represented as an enormously strong man, but his strength is not altogether of a natural order. We are told that he was fated not to gain victory with the sword. It is not only the struggle with Grendel which he wins by wrestling; in v. 2506 f. we hear that he hugged or crushed to death the Frisian champion Daeghrefn—a method of warfare appropriate to a bear rather than to a man. The explanation is perhaps to be found in the curious phenomenon called berserksgangr[177], which is so frequently mentioned in sagas and even in legal works. It is to be remembered that in popular belief this form of madness was connected with the werwolf idea, of which the bear form was a common variety. The transition therefore to the story found in HrÓlfs Saga is nothing very strange.

In conclusion mention must be made of an incident which has been brought into connection with the fight between Beowulf and Grendel. In HrÓlfs Saga, cap. 23, it is stated that shortly after his arrival at the Danish court Biarki encountered and slew an animal demon which at two successive Yules had ravaged the livestock in the king's farm. Saxo alludes clearly to the same story when he states that Biarki won great fame by killing a huge bear[178]. Now it should be observed that the representation of Grendel is by no means clearly anthropomorphic, though the human element is much more apparent in the cave scene. The various accounts may, I think, be satisfactorily reconciled on the hypothesis that in the original story the hero killed a monster or demon (iÖtunn) in the form of a bear (biarnar hamr). In England this story must have been expanded and modified by the influence of the folk-tale of the two cannibal monsters which we have discussed above. In Scandinavian tradition however no such intrusion took place, though a totally different folk-tale became attached to the early history of the same hero.

Two adventures with dragons are recorded in Beowulf. The first, that of Sigemund, is related quite briefly (vv. 884-900), but the second forms the subject of the latter part of the poem. The Older Edda (FÁfnismÁl), followed by the prose Edda and VÖlsunga Saga, gives an account of the killing of FÁfnir by SigurÐr; and in the late Seyfridslied two adventures of the same kind are narrated in connection with the same hero. Dragons figure also occasionally in the German epics, especially in the story of Wolfdietrich. Here too we must mention Saxo's accounts of the dragons slain by the Danish kings Frotho I and Fridleuus II. The two stories are almost identical, but the former (p. 38) contains a description of the dragon and of the means to be used in attacking him, which is given in Latin verse and may very well be derived from an old poem.

There are certain resemblances between Saxo's stories and the great dragon fight in Beowulf, and many scholars are inclined to the view that they have a common origin. The former however in both cases ended successfully. Moreover in two points at least they agree rather with the adventure ascribed to Sigemund in Beowulf, namely (i) that the hero attacks and kills the dragon alone and (ii) that he carries away the treasure in a boat. On the other hand it is generally agreed that the stories of Sigemund and SigurÐr must be connected, though opinion is divided as to whether the adventure was first ascribed to the father or the son. Beowulf is at all events by far the earliest of the authorities. Against this stands the fact that both Scandinavian and German tradition names SigurÐr (Siegfried) as the hero. But this argument could have weight only if there was reason for thinking that the story was known in the North before the composition of Beowulf.

FÁfnir is called dreki in VÖlsunga Saga, but he seems always to be represented rather as a reptile than a dragon. It is not at all clear that he is a being of the same kind as the dragon encountered by Beowulf, which is said to fly and breathe fire. This is perhaps to be noticed, since the flying dragon is also known in the North; we find it mentioned even in old poems such as VÖluspÁ. The description of Sigemund's dragon is too brief to enable us to determine its character. It is once called draca and thrice wyrm; but the latter word is used also of the flying dragon. On the other hand it is not certain that the word draca always denotes a supernatural being. The saedracan and niceras mentioned in Beowulf 1425 ff. would seem from the description to be animals of the seal-class.

One feature however is common to all the English and Northern dragons, namely that they are represented as guarding hoards of gold. In the North this idea must have been very widespread, since expressions such as 'bed of the dragon' (or 'snake') are among the commonest terms for gold in Old Norse poetry. In Anglo-Saxon poetry also it is generally recognised[179].

It has been mentioned above that many scholars connect the story of Beowulf's dragon-fight with that related of Frotho I by Saxo. To me the affinities of the latter seem rather to lie with Sigemund's dragon; but the truth may be that for adventures of this kind there was a standard poetic description which could be applied to any number of cases. More important perhaps is the fact that genealogically Saxo's Frotho I corresponds to Beowulf the son of Scyld[180]. In common with practically all Scandinavian genealogical texts Saxo has the series Frotho[181]—Haldanus—Ro (HrÓarr) and Helgo corresponding to the Beowulf—Healfdene—Hrothgar and Halga of the poem[182]. Quite possibly therefore it is not without significance that this person is credited with having killed a dragon.

We have seen that the two stories differ essentially in regard to the outcome of the adventure. Frotho's death is recorded by Saxo in quite a different connection and apparently long afterwards. But here we may turn to the story of the other Frotho, Saxo's Frotho III (the Peaceful), for there can be little doubt that the two characters were originally identical. According to Saxo this latter king was killed in his old age by a sorceress who had taken the form of a 'sea-cow' (marituma bos), though the author does not make clear what kind of creature he means by that term. It is at least a question whether this story does not belong to the same class as the others; for whatever differences there may be in other respects between a 'sea-cow' and a dragon, it may be observed that nearly all the dragons of Northern legends make their home by the sea.

If there is a connection between the two stories—the dragon-fight of Frotho I and the death of Frotho III—their origin must surely be sought in myth. FrÓÐi the Peaceful (Frotho III) is the central figure of Danish legend and his fame became proverbial even in Germany. Moreover, though there is no evidence that he was regarded as a god, it is clear that he was the Danish counterpart of the god Frey.

It may not be out of place here to cite one more of Saxo's stories (p. 29 f.). Hadingus, the father of Frotho I, while bathing in the sea off the coast of Helsingland encountered and killed a sea-monster of unknown species. As he was having it carried to his camp he met a woman who uttered a prophecy of dire woe, saying that he had killed one of the deities who was wandering about in a form not his own[183]. In order to propitiate the gods he instituted a sacrifice to Frey, which was to be repeated at regular intervals and which the Swedes call FrÖblod. This story seems to take us back to the days of theriomorphic religion—or perhaps one should say to a time when certain marine animals were regarded as divine. But is it not also connected somehow with the story of Frotho's death?

We need not enter here into a discussion of these mythical stories, though it may be remarked in passing that theriomorphism plays a very prominent part in the religious practices and conceptions of primitive peoples, and, what is more, that we hear not unfrequently of a struggle between a god or national hero and some theriomorphic being whose sanctuary or attributes he appears to have taken over[184]. But it is perhaps worth noting that in Beowulf also the hero is repeatedly involved in adventures with water-monsters. This feature is entirely absent from the story of Biarki and can hardly have a historical basis. What I would suggest is that it is derived, in part at least, from the same group of legends which in Danish tradition are centred round the names Hadingus and Frotho. But in that case there is considerable probability that these stories have been transferred to the hero from his namesake, the son of Scyld, who belongs genealogically to the same group of persons.

This explanation will at all events account for the discrepancy between the English and Scandinavian accounts of the hero's death[185]. Only the latter properly comes into consideration for Beowulf the son of Ecgtheow. For the suggested transference we have a certain analogy in the various incidents which are connected sometimes with one Frotho, sometimes with the other. A much better case however occurs in an English work of later date, the Vitae Duorum Offarum. In that work Drida, the wife of Offa II (the Mercian king), is represented as a most desperate character, and incidents are related of her which seem to be totally incompatible with what we know of this queen—whose real name was Cynethryth—from contemporary sources. On the other hand they agree very well with the brief account given in Beowulf of Thrytho the wife of Offa I (king of Angel). We may compare too the hopeless confusion which prevails in the chronicles with regard to Anlaf the son of Sihtric (Olafr Kvaran) and Anlaf the son of Guthfrith. It can scarcely be doubted that heroic poetry was liable to mistakes of the same character, although the question has scarcely received as much attention as it deserves.

In the explanation put forward above I do not mean of course to suggest that the dragon of northern heroic poetry is always a distorted form of some marine animal. My view is that this is one of the elements which have contributed to the formation of the stories—playing a part similar to that of the crocodile in the legends of southern lands[186]. Dragons endowed with supernatural or at least unnatural characteristics figure in the folk-tales of many nations throughout the world; and such stories are by no means restricted to maritime populations. Very frequently no doubt they are handed on from one people to another, and their currency is perhaps assisted by works of art. We have to remember that the word draca is derived from Latin. Yet the conception itself is probably much older; at all events the association of such monsters with hoards of gold can be traced back in northern regions to a very remote antiquity[187].

As regards the origin of this association—which is clearly unnatural and not due in any way to the influence of marine animals—it may be noted that the dragon's lair is often a tomb or barrow[188], as in the case of the one encountered by Beowulf. An explanation of this phenomenon seems to be afforded by a story relating to the tomb of Charles Martel, which is found in a number of medieval chronicles. St Eucherius, bishop of Orleans, in a vision saw Charles in hell, and on coming to himself begged St Boniface and others to go and inspect the prince's burial place. On opening the tomb they saw a dragon dart out suddenly and found the grave all blackened as though it had been burnt up. Here it would seem that the dragon—a fiery dragon, like the one in Beowulf—was nothing else than the spirit of the dead prince, and it is permissible to suspect that such was the case elsewhere. At all events the fact that dragons are represented as inhabiting tombs is clearly to be taken in connection with their character as guardians of gold; for in early times it was customary to bury with the dead a considerable amount of treasure.

But there is another feature which deserves notice in the story of Charles Martel's grave. The earliest document[189] in which it is found dates from the year 858, i.e. about a century after the incident is said to have taken place. But the closing words of the account[190] state quite definitely that the writer or writers had known persons who were present at the opening of the tomb. We have thus to deal with evidence which is strictly second-hand, as in the case of more than one remarkable story told by Bede. The explanation lies no doubt in the fact that the men of that age did not clearly distinguish between the supernatural and that which is merely unusual. At such a time if a person asserted that he had seen a fiery dragon, his statement would be received doubtless with wonder but not necessarily with incredulity. As a matter of fact we find it stated in the Saxon Chronicle[191], sub anno 793, that in that year fiery dragons were seen flying in the air. It cannot therefore be assumed with safety either that the killer of a dragon must be a fictitious person or that the adventure itself must have been invented long after the hero's time.

In conclusion we have to take account of supernatural properties possessed by beings which in themselves are natural. As an instance we may take the speeches of the birds (nuthatches) which in FÁfnismÁl 32 ff. warn SigurÐr of the treachery prepared for him by Reginn. Similar stories occur elsewhere in Old Norse literature. Absurd as this belief may seem we have good contemporary evidence for its existence in Procopius' account of the Warni, which we discussed in the last chapter (p. 97 f.).

Under the same head may be mentioned the faculty ascribed to various persons of being able to change into wolves or bears. As instances we may mention the case of Sigmundr and SinfiÖtli given in VÖlsunga Saga, cap. 8, and the story of Biarki discussed above. For the latter we have already suggested an explanation. But though the motif may not have been a common one in heroic poetry—as compared with sagas relating to the Viking Age—there can be no doubt that the belief in shape-changing goes back to a remote antiquity. It is of frequent occurrence in poems and stories dealing with the gods, while similar ideas are widely prevalent among primitive peoples at the present day.

Among other supernatural characteristics may be mentioned that of invulnerability, through the use of magic which rendered all weapons harmless—a feature found in Beowulf (in the case of Grendel) as well as in later works. Often too heroes are capable of superhuman powers of strength or endurance, as in Beow. 377 ff., 544 ff.[192], though many of these cases may be set down to mere exaggeration. On the whole however such characteristics are scarcely as prominent as they are in the heroic stories of other nations.

The love of the marvellous is more strikingly displayed in Procopius' account of Britain (Goth. IV 20) than in any of the poems which have come down to us. In the first place he says that the whole country beyond the great wall (i.e. the Roman Wall) was inhabited only by snakes and wild beasts, and that if any man ventured there he would die at once from the pestilential atmosphere. Then he goes on to say that Britain was the dwelling place of the spirits of the dead, and describes in detail how certain people who dwelt on the Frankish coast ferried the souls across. As to the truth of this story Procopius himself expresses scepticism; yet he states that he had heard it from numerous witnesses. It is scarcely permissible therefore to suppose that he had been victimised by a humorist. More probably he is reporting stories actually current among the Teutonic soldiery in the Roman army, which doubtless contained adventurers from many distant lands. In short we have here to do with folk-tales[193] which had been localised in Britain and were believed to represent its condition truly at the very time when Procopius was writing. It is exceedingly remarkable that such stories should obtain credence at a time when, as we know from more than one source, there was quite a considerable amount of communication between Britain and the Continent. Indeed Procopius himself says that large numbers of English emigrants had recently settled within the Frankish dominions.

In the course of this chapter we have seen that many of the heroic stories contain elements derived from myth and folk-tale. The distinction which we have drawn between the two categories is that only the former deals with definite—though unhistorical—personalities[194]. It is commonly held that myth is a necessary element in heroic stories; but this is a question which we must reserve for discussion in the next chapter. Further, we have seen that the presence of supernatural elements does not necessarily mean that the stories in which they occur were composed or modified long after the events which they relate; that, on the contrary, such elements are to be found in contemporary or almost contemporary narratives. They must be taken as faithful reflections of the beliefs and ideas of an uncritical age. But it is scarcely correct to regard these elements as the distinctive characteristics of heroic poetry. Their chief domain in reality is the folk-tale, a far more primitive form of composition, which without doubt was in existence during the same period. The truly distinctive characteristics of heroic poetry are rather those which differentiate it from the folk-tale.

[164] Under this heading we may include metrical compositions. The term 'folk-song' cannot conveniently be used here, as it has acquired a wider signification.