composed a drink of such surpassing excellence, that whoever partakes of it acquires the gift of song."1 And that was the origin of poetry in the world; although there have been a good many imitations of the real article since that day. So, again, in the Elder Edda, the hero Sigurd killed Fafner, at the instigation of Fafner's brother Regin. Regin cut out the heart of his brother, and gave it to Sigurd to roast, while he drank the blood of the murdered one. Touching the bleeding heart with his fingers, and then putting his fingers into his mouth, Sigurd found that he was now able to understand the voice of birds; and thenceforward he was a hero inspired. Afterwards he gave his bride, Gudrun, "to eat of the remnant of Fafnir's heart; so she grew wise and great-hearted." Down to the present time, there are those in the far East, and in the far West, who seek inspiration by blood-drinking. All along the North Pacific coast, the shamanism of the native tribes shows itself in a craving for blood as a means and as an accompaniment of preternatural frenzy. The chief sorcerer, or medicine-man, has his seasons of demoniacal posses 1 See Anderson's Norse Mythol., p. 247. 2 Ibid., p. 380; Lettsom's Nibel. Lied, Preface, p. ix.; Cox and Jones's Pop. Rom. of Mid. Ages, p. 254 f. 3 Pop. Rom. of Mid Ages, p. 260; also Nib. Lied, p. x. AN INSPIRING DRAUGHT. 141 sion, when he can communicate with the powers of the air. At such times he is accustomed to spring upon the members of his tribe, and bite out from their necks or bodies the bleeding flesh, as a help to inspiration and debauch. None would venture to resist these blood-thirsty assaults; but the scars which result are always borne with pride.1 Another phase of this universal idea is reported by a recent traveler in the Himalayan districts of India; where, as he thinks, the forms of religion ante-date in their origin those of Hindooism, or of Brahmanism, and "have descended from very early ages." When a favor is sought from a local divinity, "it is the chela [or primitive seer] who gasps out the commands of the deoty [the deity'], as he [the chela] shivers under the divine afflatus, and [under] the vigorous application of the soongul, or iron scourge." But before the chela can have "the divine afflatus" he must drink of living blood. Thus, this traveler witnessed an appeal to the snake-god, Kailung Nag, for fine weather for the sowing of the crops. The sacrificial sheep was procured by the people; the ceremonies of wild worship, including music, dancing, incense-burning, and bodily flagellations, proceeded. "At length, all being ready, the head of the victim was struck off with an 1 See Bancroft's Native Races, III., 150; Brinton's Myths of New World, p. 274 f.; Jackson's Alaska, p. 103 f. axe. The body was then lifted up by several men, and the chela, seizing upon it like a tiger, drank the blood as it spurted from the neck. When all the blood had been sucked from the carcass, it was thrown down upon the ground, amid yells and shouts of 'Kailung Maharaj ki jai!' ['Victory to the great king Kailung']. The dancing was then renewed, and became more violent, until, after many contortions, the chela [now blood-filled] gasped out that the deota accepted the sacrifice, and that the season would be favorable. This was received with renewed shouts, and the chela sank down upon the ground in a state of exhaustion."1 In the folk-lore of Scotland, as representing the primitive traditions of Western Europe, there are illustrations of the idea that the blood of the gods was communicated to earthly organisms. Thus, a scientific antiquarian of Scotland records in this line: "There was a popular saying that the robin "-the robin redbreast―" had a drop of God's blood in its veins, and that therefore to kill or hurt it was a sin, and that some evil would befall any one who did so; and, conversely, any kindness done to poor robin would be repaid in some fashion. Boys did not dare to harry a robin's nest." On the other hand, the yellow-hammer 1 Charles F. Oldham's "Native Faiths in the Himalayah," in The Contemporary Review for April, 1885. THE ORDEAL OF TOUCH. 143 and the swallow were said, each "to have a drop of the Devil's blood in its veins"; so the one of these birds the yellow-hammer-was "remorselessly harried"; and the other-the swallow-" was feared, and therefore let alone." A similar legendary fear of the swallow, and the guarding of his nest accordingly, exists in Germany and in China.2 Another indication of the belief that human blood has a vital connection with its divine source, and is under the peculiar oversight of its divine Author, is found in the wide-spread opinion that the blood of a murdered man will bear witness against the murderer, by flowing afresh at his touch; the living blood crying out from the dead body, by divine consent, in testimony of crime against the Author of life. Ancient European literature teems with incidents in the line of this "ordeal of touch." Thus it was, according to the Nibelungen Lied, that Kriemhild fastened upon Hagan the guilt of murdering her husband Siegfried, when Hagan and his associates were gathered for the burial of the hero. 'Firmly they made denial; Kriemhild at once replied, In sight of all the people let him approach the bier, 1 Napier's Folk-Lore of the West of Scotland, p. III f. "It is a mighty marvel, which oft e'en now we spy, That, when the blood-stain'd murderer comes to the murder'd nigh, The wounds break out a-bleeding; then too the same befell, And thus could each beholder the guilt of Hagan tell. The wounds at once burst streaming, fast as they did before; Under Christian II., of Denmark, the "Nero of the North," early in the sixteenth century, there was a notable illustration of this confidence in the power of blood to speak for itself. A number of gentlemen being together in a tavern, one evening, they fell to quarreling, and "one of them was stabbed with a poignard. Now the murderer was unknown, by reason of the number [present]; although the person stabbed accused a pursuivant of the king's who was one of the company. The king, to find out the homicide, caused them all to come together in the stove [the tavern], and, standing round the corpse, he commanded that they should, one after another, lay their right hand on the slain gentleman's naked breast, swearing that they had not killed him. The gentlemen did so, and no sign appeared against them. The pursuivant only remained, who, condemned before in his own conscience, went first of all and kissed the dead man's feet. But, as soon as he had laid his hand upon his breast, the blood gushed forth in abundance, both out 1 Lettsom's Nibel. Lied, p. 183; also Cox and Jones's Pop. Rom. of Mid. Ages, p. 47 f. |