Heathen Traces in Germanic Sources: Bavaria
After spending a semester learning Old High German, I have decided to put it to use doing a series focused on elements of heathen belief as found in Germanic sources. To start with a bit of a disclaimer, I need to say:
I view Ásatrú as a Norse-specific branch of modern Heathenry, and do not encourage the use of continental Germanic sources as a way of understanding or developing an Ásatrú practice.
I likewise do not agree with assuming that modern folklore effectively reflects traditional heathen belief in these regions, so you won’t find any Perchta or Harz Mountains witches here. I will only be working with Old High German, Middle High German, and Old Saxon texts.
That being said, let’s turn to our first topic: Bavaria.
Although the true origin of the poem is unclear, the extant copy of Mūspilli (ca. 870), scribbled in the margin of a manuscript belonging to Louis the German, bears linguistic features of the Bavarian dialect, including shifted g>c, shifted b>p, abbreviated conjugations of ‘stantan’ and ‘gangan,’ and the ‘ar-’ prefix. Line 16 (“denne der man in pardisu pu kiuuinnit”) suggests that at least part of the poem must have originally been composed in Oberdeutsch (either Bavarian or Allemanic) because the b>p shift is required to preserve alliteration with the latinate pardisu.
The poem tells of the judgment of souls and the end of the world; scholars have pointed out that the “apocalypse” portion (lines 37-60ish) disrupts the primary narrative of the story and thus may be an interpolation, but we have no way of knowing this for sure.
As far as its value for understanding pre-Christian belief in the region, it is generally cited as an Old High German example of the word múspel occurring in relation to the end of the world. I have already discussed this trend extensively here with citations from Völuspá and the Old Saxon Heliand. For this reason, I will not dwell too long on this topic, and only wish to point out that its use in Mūspilli (“dar ni mac denne mak andremo helfan vora demo muspille” or “there no relative may help another before the mūspilli”) occurs, once again, in conjunction with the destruction of our “middle earth” through fire:
"so inprinnant die perga, poum ni kistentit
enihc in erdu, aha artruknent,
muor varsuuilhit sih, suilizot lougiu der himil,
mano uallit, prinnit mittilagart…” (lns. 50-55)
[“The mountains will burn, no tree will stand, not any on earth. Rivers dry out and the swamps themselves are swallowed up. Heaven blazes in flames, the moon falls, Middle Earth burns.”]
In this way, the poem supports my earlier argument that múspel and destruction reflect a pre-Christian notion of the end of the world found across several Germanic traditions.
The other detail that is generally pinpointed as reflecting pre-Christian belief in the Mūspilli is the battle between Elias and the Antichrist. However, I feel that the existence a battle exists is not enough to claim that this addition to the Biblical narrative is remarkably pre-Christian. Generally, the parallel drawn is between the this conflict and the battle between Þórr and Jörmungandr found in Völuspá. The evidence used to support this claim comes from the following lines:
"so daz Eliases pluot in erda kitriufit,
so inprinnant die perga…” (lns. 50-51)
[“So when Elijah’s blood drips onto the earth, the mountains will burn…”]
"drepr hann af móði miðgarðz véor,
muno halir allir, heimstöð ryðia…”
[“Miðgarðr’s defender kills (the serpent) with courage, all men will leave their halls…”]
in which the destruction/abandonment of Middle Earth is specifically triggered by its defender’s fall. However, I feel that this alone is not enough to justify a Þórr-Elias parallel, and it should not be assumed that this story in Mūspilli is related to details found in the later Völuspá.
In short, Mūspilli adds to our understanding of pre-Christian Germanic belief primarily through its use of a term related to múspel and the way it relates to destruction through fire.
Although categorically Bavarian because of the presence of shifted b>p and a few g>c, it has been suggested that the scribe of this poem may have been working with a Low German (Old Saxon, etc.) exemplar because of the presence of the definite article “dat.” The sole surviving manuscript has been dated to around 814, and it was discovered in a monastery near Weilheim.
This manuscript bears two unique features. First, it is divided into two parts: a passage of alliterative poetry about the world’s creation, and a prose/prayer appeal to God for salvation. Second, the manuscript uses the *gebô/’gift’ rune (X) in place of the “ga-” prefix throughout the poetic lines. However, while this is a mysterious feature, I want to encourage you not to read too far into this choice/assume a ‘magical’ connection/etc. I know how heathens get when runes are mentioned, and I want to stress that we have no reason to believe this is anything but scribal shorthand.
Rather than discussing the presence of this rune, I want to focus instead on another unique feature in these lines. The poem’s discussion of the world’s creation bears a striking resemblance to a similar passage in Völuspá.
In the Wessobrunn Prayer:
"Dat er[d]o ni uuas noh ufhimil
noh paum <…> noh pereg ni uuas
ni <…> nohheinig noh sunna ni scein
noh mano ni liuhta, noh der mareo seo” (lns. 2-5)
[“The earth was not, nor the heavens above, nor tree, nor mountain. There wasn’t a single thing. The sun didn’t shine, nor did the moon light. The sea did not exist.”]
"vara sandr né sær né svalar unnir;
iorð fannz æva né upphiminn,
gap var ginnunga enn gras hvergi…
…sól þat né vissi, hvar hon sali átti,
stiornor þat né visso, hvar þær staði átto,
máni þat né vissi, hvat hann megins átti” (sts. 3, 5)
[“There was no sand or sea, nor soothing waves. There was no earth to be found nor heaven above. A gap was huge, and grass nowhere…the sun did not know where her hall was, and the stars did not know where they had places. The moon did not know what power he had.”]
In conclusion, it seems that the Wessobrunn Prayer may utilize a similar poetic formula describing the world’s beginning as what we find in Völuspá. We do not know for certain if these echo what we can call “true heathen belief” or if they are simply poetic conventions, but either way, the similarities between these two passages are undeniable.
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