A Tainted Legacy. Finnur Magnusson S Myt PDF

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A Tainted Legacy
Simon Halink
Published online: 08 Apr 2015.
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To cite this article: Simon Halink (2015) A Tainted Legacy, Scandinavian Journal of History, 40:2,
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Scandinavian Journal of History, 2015
Vol. 40, No. 2, 239–270, http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/03468755.2015.1022872
Simon Halink
A TAINTED LEGACY
Finnur Magnússon’s mythological studies and

Iceland’s national identity
In the first half of the 19th century, the now largely forgotten Copenhagen-based Icelander
Finnur Magnússon was considered Europe’s leading authority on Old Norse literature and
runic inscriptions. His expert knowledge was called upon by scholars like the Grimm
brothers, and his ground-breaking publications on Eddic mythology were inspired by the
newest theories in comparative linguistics and philology. Finnur, an admirer of both
Rasmus Rask and Walter Scott, dedicated himself to the emancipation of Old Norse
mythology vis-à-vis hegemonial classical culture, and defended it ferociously against
attacks of the so-called ‘anti-Eddists’. He also encouraged Nordic artists to turn to the
Eddas for inspiration in their search for truly ‘national’ motifs. After his reputation was
permanently destroyed due to his involvement in the ‘Runamo controversy’, Finnur’s legacy
disappeared into oblivion, and his profound significance in the first generation of Icelandic
(Romantic) nationalists has been overlooked ever since. What did his contribution to the
fledgling national discourse in Iceland consist of? And how did his ideas on Nordic culture
and mythology influence the Romantic movement in Scandinavia?
Keywords Finnur Magnússon, Romanticism, philology, Old Norse mythology,

the Eddas, Icelandic national identity
In the decades around 1800, one paradigmatic upheaval after another transformed the
face of the humanities for good. The ancient Scottish poems of Ossian, ‘rediscovered
and translated’ – but in fact to a large extent invented and falsely presented as a
complete ancient epic – by James Macpherson in the 1760s, had been translated into
many languages and had caused a Europe-wide ‘Ossian vogue’ and a ‘Celtic revival’.
Ossian was conceived as the Nordic equivalent of Homer, and the poetry ascribed to
him soon acquired a ‘classical’ status not inferior to that of the Greek epics. No other
body of literature contributed more to the cultural and spiritual emancipation of the
north, which could now confidently turn to its own past without having to justify this
by drawing comparisons to ancient Greece or Rome. The starting point of the ‘literary
historicism’ that would come to characterize Europe’s Romantic nationalisms is there-
fore for good reason identified with the publication of Macpherson’s poems.1
© 2015 the Historical Associations of Denmark, Finland, Iceland, Norway and Sweden
240 SCANDINAVIAN JOURNAL OF HISTORY
Paradoxically, it was this forgery – or, at least, very creative re-rendering – that would
imbue Europe with a sense of ‘Nordic authenticity’.
The unparalleled popularity of Ossian inspired a scholarly quest for national epics
and the retrieval of ancient national heritage, which would contribute to the growing
sense of national identity in 19th-century Europe. Old Norse and Germanic mythol-
ogy, dismissed by enlightened critics as primitive proto-science or distorted
historiography,2 was now rehabilitated as a product of that same Nordic sublimity
which characterized Ossian’s poems. Through mythology, the German idealist F. W.
J. Schelling argued, the modern sciences could finally find their way back to ‘the ocean
of poetry’ from which they had sprung.3 Johann Gottfried Herder, one of the founding
theoreticians of modern cultural nationalism, believed that German poets should look
to the mythology of their Germanic kinsmen in Scandinavia for inspiration, while Jacob
Grimm revolutionized the whole field of mythological research with his comparative
methodology – transposed from his equally revolutionary linguistic research – and
continued the German appropriation of Scandinavian culture by naming his anthology

of largely Nordic myths simply Deutsche Mythologie (‘German Mythology’).4 The school
of ‘new mythology’,5 initiated by the writings of Grimm, first established the
comparative study of myth through the use of empirical methodologies as an academic
discipline and would determine the West’s treatment of mythology for generations.
In this climate of waxing interest in all things Nordic, Copenhagen remained the
capital of Old Norse philology and scholarship. In the course of the 17th and 18th
centuries, the retrieval of medieval Icelandic manuscripts, spearheaded by Icelandic
manuscript hunters like Árni Magnússon, had become an important issue to the kings
of Denmark, who commissioned their shipping to Copenhagen, where these testimo-
nies to the greatness of the Danish realm – of which Iceland was a constituent part –
were preserved in the prestigious Arnamagnæan Collection: the largest collection of
Old Norse-Icelandic manuscripts in the world. Icelanders residing in Copenhagen often
acquired key positions in this academic infrastructure, since their mother tongue was
considered still more or less identical to the language of the medieval sagas. Many of
them found jobs as archivists, assistants, scribes, or linguistic advisors to foreign
scholars trying to decipher the ancient texts. With this exportation of Icelandic talents
also came the importation of foreign ideas; according to Guðmundur Hálfdanarson, the
basic tenets of Icelandic nationalism can all be traced back to German Romantic
sentiments of the period after the Napoleonic Wars, ‘when the echoes of Fichte’s
and Hegel’s writings reached the Icelandic student community in Copenhagen’.6
In the course of the first decades of the 19th century it was one of these gifted
Icelandic expats who became Denmark’s leading authority on the field of Eddic
scholarship. Since Snorri Sturluson, no other Icelander had dedicated as much of his
intellectual activity to the study and elucidation of Old Norse myth as Finnur
Magnússon (Danish: Finn Magnusen; 1781–1847). With his edition of the Poetic
Edda,7 and especially his magnum opus in four volumes, Eddalæren og dens Oprindelse
(‘The Eddic Lore and its Origin’),8 he revolutionized the philological scene entirely
and pioneered what would become characterized as the Romantic, nature-mythological
interpretation of the Eddas. Just like the initiators of Danish Romanticism, N. F. S.
Grundtvig and Adam Oehlenschläger, he had followed the influential lectures of the
Norwegian-born Danish philosopher Henrik Steffens on philosophy and national
ideology, in which Friedrich von Schelling’s Romantic interpretation of mythology,
A TAINTED LEGACY 241
along with his concept of the Weltseele (‘World Soul’), were first introduced to the
Nordic world. Inspired by these new ideas, Finnur became one of the very first
Icelandic representatives of the Romantic movement.9 He acquainted himself with the
works of prominent Romantic writers, and found in the historical novels of Sir Walter
Scott a useful template for the literary and poetic activation of an ancient, national past.
It was through reading these works that Finnur became convinced that both ancient
and modern national literature sprang from one and the same ‘trunk’.10 In that sense,
the Waverley novels were just as much a product of the primordial Nordic genius as the
‘ancient poems’ of Ossian. The authenticity of the Ossian poems was, in Finnur’s eyes,
just as undeniable as that of the contested Eddic poem Hrafnagaldr Óðins, to which I
will return later.11 According to Andrew Wawn, his scholarship was ‘romantic to the
core’, and presented Old Norse mythology as the reflection of ‘primitive responses,
sensuous and intense, to the natural forces governing individuals’ lives since the dawn
of civilization’.12 What did this new, Romantic Edda reception consist of? And on what
grounds can it be characterized as Romantic?
‘Romantic to the core’

Despite his solid scholarly reputation in the early 19th century, Finnur’s legacy has
suffered tremendously from his involvement in the academic controversy revolving
around the infamous Runamo rock face in southern Sweden (Blekinge). In 1833 he
headed an expedition instigated by the Royal Danish Academy, which set out to
investigate the mysterious ‘runes’ engraved in the rock. These runic inscriptions are
already attested in Saxo Grammaticus’ early-13th-century Gesta Danorum, in which
they are ascribed to the legendary king Harald ‘Wartooth’ (Haraldr hilditönn), who
commissioned them in commemoration of his father’s great deeds. In Saxo’s own
time, a Danish delegation sent to Blekinge by King Valdemar I had established that the
ancient runes were no longer legible.13 The research party led by Finnur consisted of
specialists from various disciplines, like the artist Christian Ferdinand Christensen, the
historian Christian Molbech, and the geologist Johan Georg Forchhammer. Even
though Finnur had considerable difficulties deciphering the carvings in the beginning,
he started to harvest results once he ‘discovered’ that the text had to be read from
right to left, and consisted of so-called bind runes (ligatures of two or more runes),
which complicated the process considerably.14 Once he had cracked the code, Finnur
was convinced: these were indeed ancient runes, and with some perseverance, a full
translation of the stanzas would be possible. This conclusion attracted the attention of
one of Sweden’s most authoritative scientists, Jöns Jacob Berzelius, who initiated his
own expedition to Runamo in 1836 and came to the staggering conclusion that the
mysterious symbols consisted of nothing more than natural cracks in the rock’s surface.
Finnur could, in his eyes, not have been more wrong. Naturally, Finnur did not agree,
and in 1841 he published his findings and a partial translation of the inscription in order
to debunk Berzelius’s theory.15 But the tables had turned: a third expedition to the site
in 1844, headed by the Danish archaeologist J. J. A. Worsaae, confirmed Berzelius’s
findings and eventually caused the demise of Finnur’s international scholarly esteem.16
It is difficult to understand how a trained runologist could have mistaken
natural and utterly random patterns on a rock face for actual skaldic poetry up to
the point that he could actually present a translation of the inscription. It seems
unlikely that he was deceiving his audience on purpose. The best possible explanation
for this bizarre mistake17 is the psychological phenomenon referred to as pareidolia:
the tendency to recognize human facial features and characteristics in natural shapes
and formations – like the famous ‘man in the moon’ – and to assign human
significance to random patterns. Maybe it is from this universal tendency towards
signification that not only Finnur’s monumental misinterpretation but also mytho-
logical imagination itself originated. In Finnur’s time, runologists could still allow
themselves a ‘romantic blend of archaeology, history, mythology and especially
imagination, in their interpretation of the runes’, writes Páll Valsson; but now
that philology had become comparative (and therefore ‘scientific’), those times
were coming to a close, ‘and the only person who preserved his faith in
Magnússon’s theory after the Runamo affair was the elderly N.F.S. Grundtvig,
himself a big fan of Norse mythology’.18 Unfortunately, the Runamo scandal was
not the only misstep in Finnur’s career. He also managed to connect his name to the
false claim that Rhode Island’s Dighton Rock petroglyphs – believed by some to have
been carved by Viking colonists after their discovery of the New World – were
indeed of Old Norse origin. To make matters even worse, his troublesome marriage
– which was eventually dissolved in 1840 – and his continuous financial problems did
little to improve his quality of life. In desperate attempts to keep his head above
water, he sold – overpriced – medieval Icelandic manuscripts to the British; a
practice which rendered him hugely unpopular, and which had detrimental effects
on his reputation in Iceland.19
For the sake of the present study, it is important to remember that during most of
his active life Finnur was considered, by fellow Icelanders and foreigners alike, an
authority in the field of Old Norse-Icelandic mythology. The famous Icelandic poet
Benedikt Gröndal, whose father (Sveinbjörn Egilsson) had known Finnur well,
describes him as a great scholar, ‘renowned in all countries’, who corresponded
with many of the great minds of his time.20 Finnur, who was born in the old bishopric
of Skálholt in 1781 and whose paternal uncle was the great Enlightenment naturalist
and poet Eggert Ólafsson, went to Copenhagen in 1798 to study law and received
financial support from the manuscript hunter Árni Magnússon’s fund for Icelandic
scholars. However, like many other Icelanders, Finnur soon lost interest in the law and
focused his attention on runology, Old Norse literature, and archaeology instead. In
1815 he became professor of literature, and in 1819 he began giving lectures on Old
Norse literature and mythology. Alongside his activities at the university, he held a
position at the king’s private archive, and became its head in 1829. Together with the
acclaimed Danish linguist and philologist Rasmus Christian Rask and Carl Christian
Rafn, he founded Det Nordiske Oldskriftselskab (‘The Old Nordic Literature Society’) in
1825. He was also one of the founding members of Rask’s literary society Hið íslenzka
bókmenntafélag (‘The Icelandic Literary Society’, established 1816) in Copenhagen, and
he contributed articles on international and domestic news to its annual journal Íslenzk
sagnablöð. When this journal was succeeded by Skírnir in 1827, Finnur became its first
editor in chief.
Finnur’s international network

The tightly-knit community of Icelandic intellectuals in Copenhagen, of which Finnur
was a prominent constituent, was by no means an isolated body operating in an
intellectual vacuum. His lively correspondences with his fellow countrymen, including
Jónas Hallgrímsson, Jón Sigurðsson, and Bjarni Thorarensen, provide us with an
interesting insight into the dissemination and reception of philological ideas among
the Icelandic intelligentsia. Finnur stayed in touch with the British – primarily Scottish
– scholars he had acquainted during his short stop in Edinburgh, on his way from
Denmark to Iceland in the summer of 1812, including the publisher Archibald
Constable and the ballad scholars Robert Jamieson and Sir Walter Scott.21 In
Denmark, Finnur was in close contact with Rask, with whom he had become
acquainted at the university and whose Undersögelse om det gamle Nordiske eller
Islandske Sprogs Oprindelse (‘A Study on the Origin of the Old Norse or Icelandic
Language’)22 he helped to correct and prepare for publication, together with Rasmus
Nyerup. In cooperation with this same Nyerup, Rask had published an edition of the
Prose Edda 10 years earlier.23
The interaction with Rask, who is – along with the Grimm brothers and Franz
Bopp – considered one of the ‘founding fathers’ of the ‘comparative-historical study of
Indo-European languages’,24 had a profound effect on Finnur’s own comparative
approach to Old Norse mythology. Rask was one of the first ‘linguistic activists’ to
proclaim that Icelandic, the last surviving remnant of the Old Norse language once
spoken by all Nordic peoples, was under threat of extinction and would disappear
entirely if the Danification process on Iceland was not put to a halt. It was the patriotic
duty, not only of the Icelanders but of all the Nordic peoples, to preserve ‘their’
ancient Icelandic language. In an open letter to the Icelanders (27 February 1815),25 in
which he called for the establishment of Hið íslenzka bókmenntafélag, Rask provided a
structured overview of what the envisioned society should aspire to in his opinion.
Even though the literary treasures of old had become celebrated throughout the Nordic
world and beyond, the state of intellectual affairs on the island which had preserved
them was deplorable. Much had changed since the golden age of Old Norse literature,
and nowadays the Icelandic language and the literary gems it had produced seemed to
balance on the edge of oblivion. It could no longer be left to foreigners to appreciate
Icelandic culture; the Icelandic nation itself should now begin to cultivate its own
heritage and culture, just like other nations had begun to cultivate their own, and to
educate and enlighten the Icelandic people. As a patriot, Rask valued Denmark’s
political and academic independence from Germany, which is reflected in his Nordic
rather than (Herderian) Germanic perspective on philology and linguistic relations. He
equally despised the cultural inclusivism of Jacob Grimm, whom he (rightfully)
accused of plagiarizing some of his own linguistic theories.26 The new comparative
methodology characteristic of Indo-European linguistics was applied by both Grimm
and Rask, although Jacob Grimm soon moved beyond the field of linguistics and
discovered the merits of this approach to comparative (Indo-European) mythology as
well. This marriage between comparative linguistics and the study of myth under the
banner of the Indo-European hypothesis, which in Germany occurred in the oeuvre of
one man (Jacob Grimm), required the combined academic efforts of two associates,
Rask (linguistics) and Finnur (mythology), in Denmark.
Like Rask, Finnur Magnússon was one of the Nordic scholars on whom Wilhelm
and Jacob Grimm depended heavily in their dealings with Old Norse language and
culture.27 But the correspondence between the Grimms and Finnur was not a very
smooth one, and Finnur appears to have shared some of Rask’s reservations concerning
their work. In 1829 Wilhelm Grimm sent Finnur a copy of his Die deutsche Heldensage
and a treatise on runic literature (‘Zur Litteratur der Runen’), on which Finnur was
considered a great authority. The Icelander’s response can be characterized as grateful
but reserved; at no point does he go into the actual contents of the received lecture.28
After that the correspondence ceased, until 1834, that is, when Wilhelm Grimm
contacted Finnur again in order to introduce the British scholar Richard Cleasby, an
acquaintance of his, who delivered the letter personally when he travelled to
Denmark. The letter is concerned with runic matters, and contains the announcement
that Jacob was working on his Deutsche Mythologie (published in 1835), of which he
would send Finnur a copy after completion.29 Again, Finnur did not reply until two
years later. What made matters problematic between them was a passage in the third
volume of Finnur’s Danish edition of the Poetic Edda,30 in which he implies that
Wilhelm Grimm had used exactly the same argument and the same quotes in his
chapter on the Willingshauser stone (in his Ueber deutsche Runen, 1821) as Finnur had
done in an unpublished report for the governor of Schleswig-Holstein, which the
director of the Hessian state archives had allowed Grimm to use.31 Reference to this
report is nowhere to be found in the chapter in question. Nowhere does Finnur
explicitly claim that Grimm had plagiarized his work, but the insinuation is explicit
enough for Wilhelm Grimm to clarify the matter in a letter from November 1838, in
which he promises that the matter would be corrected in the second edition of the
work.32 Unfortunately, this promise could not be kept, since a second edition of the
volume never appeared.
Another German heavyweight with whom Finnur was acquainted was the scientist
and explorer Alexander von Humboldt, who visited Copenhagen as a member of the
royal Prussian delegation of 1845 and actually shared a coach with Finnur, the king’s
archivist, on this occasion.33 After this first acquaintance, Finnur wrote at least two
letters to von Humboldt (in 1845 and 1846), and even provided him with a sample of
volcanic ash, released during the 1845 eruption of Mount Hekla. This sample was
subsequently handed over to the scientist C. G. Ehrenberg, who discovered micro-
organisms in it.34 It remains unclear whether von Humboldt ever replied to any of
these letters.35 The prominent position Finnur held at the Danish court rendered him a
key figure in the international network of academics and an important point of
reference for philologists and non-philologists alike.
This point is further illustrated by Finnur’s correspondence with Friedrich David
Gräter, who is generally considered one of the founding fathers of Scandinavian
philology in Germany.36 Gräter corresponded with prominent German poets and
scholars like Christoph Martin Wieland and Herder, and he acquainted German
readers with Old Norse poetry through his translations, published in his popular
anthology Nordische Blumen37 and his periodicals Bragur and Idunna und Hermode. His
empirical methods and aversion to the irrational Romantic practices of his contempor-
aries resulted in an academic feud with the Grimm brothers concerning the nature of
Nordic myth.38 In his ‘Der Donnergott und der Asiate Thor’ (1812), published in
Bragur, Gräter elaborates on the Asian origin of the Old Norse gods, and describes how
Odin, a king from the east, travelled to Scandinavia and visited many Germanic kings
and chieftains along the way. Due to deliberate deception, the naïve Scandinavian
peoples had become convinced of the divine status of these visitors, and thus initiated
the cult of the Asian Æsir.39 The traditional euhemeristic interpretation of mythology
(which states that gods and myths are the result of the gradual deification of initially
historical characters and events), as promulgated by Gräter and Snorri Sturluson before
him, had lost much of its credibility and academic status by the time this article
appeared, and was incompatible with new etiological models based on comparative
studies of mythology. The now fashionable Romantic conception of myth, as an
expression of the omnipotent and ever evolving Weltseele, had little in common with
the naïve idea of a historical people entering the Germanic north and ‘tricking’ the
peoples there into believing they were gods.40 The Romantic discontent with euhe-
merism found its most sarcastic expression in the Grimms’ polemical assessment of
Gräter’s works, initially in reaction to his critical evaluation of the Altdänische

Heldenlieder, Balladen und Märchen of 1811.41 The hegemony of the Grimmian paradigm
resulted in a severe under-appreciation of Gräter’s ground-breaking work, and almost
assigned his legacy to complete oblivion.42 His method of historical rationalization was
rendered obsolete in the course of the 1820s and 1830s, when the euhemeristic
paradigm was replaced by the Romantic one. Exactly how this landslide in the history
of the study of myth came about can be illustrated through a closer examination of
Finnur’s influential writings on the Eddas. How did he position himself intellectually
between the innovative vision of the Grimm brothers and the anti-Romantic theories of
Gräter? What did his own etiological theories consist of? And how would these
theories eventually reach beyond the academic world and influence the creative
writings of poets like Adam Oehlenschläger?
A benchmark for national authenticity: the Poetic Edda

Between 1787 and 1828, the Arnamagnæan Commission published its own edition of
the Poetic Edda (Edda Sæmundar hinns Fróda) in three volumes, containing the original
Old Norse-Icelandic text, a Latin translation, and extensive annotations and glossary.43
The project had initially been under the supervision of the learned Icelander
Guðmundur Magnússon (Latinized: Gudmund Magnæus, 1738–1798), and would
eventually result in the first integral Latin translation of the Eddic poems, making
them available to an international readership. In 1818, it was Finnur Magnússon who
finished the second volume of this impressive endeavour, and 10 years later he
published the third and last volume, which was entirely under his redaction. In that
same year he completed an exhaustive lexicon of Old Norse mythological themes and
characters in Latin (Priscae veterum borealium mythologiae lexicon44), which appeared in
addition to this third volume and helped its readers to come to a better understanding
of the cryptic stanzas. It contained elaborate discourses on the theosophy, practices,
and ‘demonic’ entities of the pre-Christian religion, and placed them in a comparative
perspective, including numerous references to Greco-Roman and Indian mythological
parallels.45 By this time, Finnur had become convinced that the ancient religion of the
north had originated in Asia and not in Scandinavia itself. Through his Latin writings –
and especially his third volume of the Copenhagen Edda46 – these ideas were
disseminated throughout Europe and the world. But they were by no means the first
expressions of his Indo-European convictions.
Before his work on the third volume of the Arnamagnæan Edda and the additional
lexicon, Finnur had already finished his translation of the entire Poetic Edda – at this
point still generally attributed to the enigmatic medieval Icelandic sage Sæmundr the
Learned – into Danish, which appeared in four volumes between 1821 and 1823. The
work is dedicated to the Danish king and the Danish people, and is presented as the
‘most ancient monument of the Danish language’.47 In the introduction to the first
volume, Finnur justifies his mission to render the ancient myths accessible to the
modern Danish public through the time-honoured adage of the ancient Greek philo-
sophers: ‘know thyself’. In order for a modern people to ‘know itself’, knowledge of
ancestral wisdom, worldview, and religion is indispensable:
Only when one becomes acquainted with his fatherland’s antiquity and its later
history can one judge to what extent the present is foreign to us, or even what we
could consider as our own, as loans, or as forced upon us by others. We thus learn
to know the true national spirit, in which our existence is entirely rooted – and
consequently conclude that the three main peoples which are generally called
Nordic (Danish, Swedish and Norwegians) are originally brothers, who previously
spoke one language and were of one faith.48
According to Finnur’s programmatic introduction, the ancient myths cannot simply be

cast aside as antiquarian curiosities, the study of which should be confined to the
universities. Rather, attaining knowledge of the poems should be a national commit-
ment, since they are expressions of the original, uncontaminated national spirit that
could assist modern Danes in distinguishing between what is and what is not essentially
Nordic. The Edda therefore serves as a benchmark for national authenticity, with
which all aspects of modern Danish culture should be calibrated. Such a treasure trove
of undefiled national spirit is important, especially in these modern times. Finnur
writes:
We live in an age in which the scholars of the North also consider our own old
stories and ancient culture worthy of their attention, instead of just craving for the
exotic. Many among the mighty and wealthy, as well as the enlightened among the
people of all classes, share the same spirit, which surely does not deserve to be
scorned. At least, it seems, that that which relates to our own country, comes
closest to ourselves.49
In accordance with Herder, Finnur believes that the growth of a national self-awareness,
coinciding with a lively interest in the nation’s ancient past and literature, is indicative of
the Volksgeist making itself known without distinguishing between the different classes or
strata constituting the nation. The national spirit is omnipresent and egalitarian, which
implies that the study of Denmark’s ancient Nordic heritage should not be reserved for
the national elite, but rather be made accessible to all layers of society.
Finnur’s envisioned integration of ancient myth and modern national culture went
beyond the mere democratic dissemination and study of ancient texts. In the Ældre
Edda, he also raises the question of contemporary art and culture, and the inspiration
they could draw from the Eddas. This matter was already touched upon in one of his
earlier writings, Bidrag til nordisk Archæologie (1820), in which he had argued that Old
Norse mythology was no less suitable for modern artistic expression than the hege-
monic traditions of classical antiquity,50 moving roughly along the same lines of
argumentation as Adam Oehlenschläger had done 20 years earlier in a prize essay on
the same topic. In 1820, the year of Finnur’s Bidrag til nordisk Archæologie, a fierce
debate on the relevance of Old Norse myth to modern culture erupted in Denmark’s
academia. In the preface to the fourth volume of his Danish translation of the Poetic
Edda (1823), Finnur refers to this heated dispute – the memory of which was still too
fresh for an outline of its unfolding to be necessary – and provides his readership with a
short overview of the artistic applications of Old Norse mythology in modern times.51
The first Dane to have incorporated Eddic themes in his work was the 18th-century
sculptor Johannes Wiedewelt, whose example was followed by many in Scandinavia. In
Germany it was Gräter who, somewhat later, first recognized the graceful Old Norse
myths as a source of inspiration for modern artists. According to Finnur, his appeal was
heard by many like-minded artists, like the sculptor Christian Friedrich Tieck and the
painter Johann Heinrich Füssli. In the hope that this development would continue,
Finnur explicitly calls upon all artists to look upon his translations of the Eddic poems
as ‘a rich source of excellent objects for artistic production’.52 It is obvious from these
passages that Finnur wanted to move beyond the words in which the myths had been
transmitted, and focus on the visual aspects of a mythological world view. In his view,
the myths had – in pagan times – inspired Nordic artists to create great works of
plastic art in sculpture, carving, painting, and tapestry, most of which had been lost.
Finnur argued – much to the dislike of the ‘anti-Eddists’ Torkel and G. L. Baden53 –
that, in their capacity to inspire, the Old Norse myths were – and are – in no way
inferior to their classical counterparts. It is very likely that Finnur’s mission to
revitalize Old Norse aesthetics was at least in part inspired by the works of his
uncle, Jón Ólafsson of Svefneyjar, who had already argued in favour of restoring old
Eddic metres to Icelandic poetry in the 1780s and later had a considerable influence on
the education of the young Finnur. In a prize essay from 1786 (Om Nordens gamle
Digtekonst),54 this same Jón Ólafsson had concluded that the Eddic verses predated the
settlement of Iceland by many centuries, as could be deduced from their ancient and
‘noble simplicity’; an aesthetic criterion previously applied by the German classicist
Johann Winckelmann in his very successful attempt to elevate Greek art to the status
of benchmark of good taste in general.
Another interesting feature of Finnur’s Danish edition of the Poetic Edda is his
treatment of the controversial poem Hrafnagaldr Óðins (‘Óðinn’s raven-magic’), which
was believed by many to be a late addition to the ancient corpus.55 However, Finnur
did ‘not doubt this poem’s authenticity and age at all’,56 and went to great lengths to
demonstrate its authenticity on the basis of its ‘extremely ancient vocabulary as well as
its fragmentary nature, and in particular its genuine mythical spirit plus the fact that it
only has very few allusions to stories known otherwise from eddas or sagas’.57 The
problematic title of the poem refers in all likelihood to Óðinn’s two ravens Huginn and
Muninn (‘Thought’ and ‘Memory’/‘Mind’), even though they are not mentioned in
the poem itself. Finnur explains this discrepancy by suggesting that an essential part of
the text is missing, and that these missing stanzas would have clarified not only the title
but also the actual meaning of the cryptic verses.58 In comparison to the notorious
difficulties previous exegetes of the poem had encountered, Finnur’s smooth treatment
of Hrafnagaldr is remarkable. He writes:
However I will not conceal the truth that the same poem’s actual translation with
annotations, hardly cost me two days’ time. It is by no means to invoke any self-
praise that I note this (especially since I have not managed to solve all the difficult
problems which arise), but only to make my readers aware of the ease with which
so many of the most difficult Edda passages can be disclosed and explained when
one first views our ancestral mythical system from the right standpoint.59
What this ‘right standpoint’ of Eddic exegesis consisted of can be illustrated by his
explanation of the problematic title. According to Finnur, the ravens Huginn and
Muninn were generally considered to have been ‘sent from heaven, air, and God’s
spirit, from whom also the human spirit emanated’. Consequently, the actual meaning
of ‘Óðinn’s raven-magic’ was something along the lines of ‘the Imagination’s Magic-
Song or the Poem of the Poetic Imagination’.60 This Romantic psychologization of the
poem’s mystical contents is indicative of Finnur’s central theory on Old Norse myths,
according to which they were actually ancient natural science, or natural philosophy, in
allegorical disguise.61
It would be too easy to attribute Finnur’s ‘absolute belief’ in the authenticity of
Hrafnagaldr Óðins to the same Romantic imagination and ‘will to believe’ that led him
to discern actual skaldic poetry on Runamo’s rock face, and which persuaded people
throughout Europe into believing in the authenticity of the ‘ancient bardic verses’ of
Ossian, or the epic poetry of the Finnish Kalevala. Another apocryphal Eddic poem,
Gunnarsslagr (‘Gunnar’s Melody’) – which was still included in the second volume of
the Arnamagnæan edition of 1818 – is dismissed by Finnur as a brilliant, but never-
theless easily exposed, work of modern imitation.62 Furthermore, Annette Lassen has
recently demonstrated that Hrafnagaldr should not be treated with greater scepticism
than the other apocryphal poems known to us through later paper manuscripts of the
Poetic Edda, like Sólarljóð (‘The Song of the Sun’) and Fjölsvinnsmál (‘The Sayings of
Fjölsvinnr’).63 The origin and meaning of the poem continues to puzzle scholars to this
day. Finnur’s argument in favour of its authenticity is in itself sound, and should not be
considered through the lens of the later Runamo scandal alone.
Indo-European origins
Even though Finnur’s translation and elucidation of the Eddic poems – which I have
considered so far – have been of immense importance to the development of Eddic
philology in the 19th century, the paradigmatic quality of his work becomes most
evident in the four volumes of his Eddalæren og dens Oprindelse (‘The Eddic Lore and its
Origin’).64 With this elaborate prize essay – accompanied by his annotated Danish
translation of the Poetic Edda – Finnur participated in an essay competition organized by
the Danish Academy of Sciences (1816), the theme of which was the relationship
between the Old Norse religion and the religions of ancient Persia and India; a theme
that required a strongly developed comparative mind-set from the competitors. By this
time, comparativism had become an established methodology in the new field of Indo-
European linguistics, firmly established by the works of Sir William Jones, Thomas
Young – who first introduced the term Indo-European in 1813 – and Franz Bopp.
Finnur’s proximity to, and cooperation with, Rasmus Rask, Denmark’s most promi-
nent linguist and authority on the Indo-European theory, instilled in him the same
curiosity and enthusiasm for the ‘quest for origins’. This tendency towards the study of
origins – of language, culture, and mythology alike (etiology) – is already clearly
reflected in the title of Finnur’s magnum opus, which is very similar to the title of
Rask’s influential Undersögelse om det gamle nordiske eller islandske Sprogs Oprindelse (‘A
Study on the Origin of the Old Norse or Icelandic Language’, 1818), which Finnur and
Nyerup had helped prepare for publication. The study of language did not take place in
a vacuum, and dovetailed with comparative philology and the study of mythological
systems. Rask viewed his own journey to India (1820–1823) as an expedition to the
‘source of our ancient pagan religion’.65 The deepest roots of ‘our own’ language and
pre-Christian culture were no longer seen as being situated in Europe, and required
adventurous expeditions to the east in order to be traced. In 1818, Finnur published a

small work on the origins of the Caucasian peoples, Udsigt over de kaukasiske
Menneskestammes ældste Hjemsted og Udvandringer (‘A Consideration of the Oldest
Homeland and Emigration of the Caucasian Tribes’),66 which served as an introduction
to the theme of his university lectures on Old Norse mythology. In this very concise
overview, he sought to outline the ‘causes of the resemblance which the Indo-Persian
religious systems show with those of Asia, Africa and of Europe’s oldest nations in
general, and with our Nordic system in particular’.67 Only when situated in this larger
framework of comparative mythology could the study of the Eddas be of any merit at
all. To his mind, Old Norse mythology was but one of many branches which had
sprouted organically from the ‘Eurasian myth-tree’.68
The taxonomical approach to the study of myth was popularized by the writings of
Georg Friedrich Creuzer, who, in 1810, put forward the concept of a primeval religion
from the east, or Urreligion, from which all modern religions and mythologies had
evolved.69 This inspired scholars to compare the different traditions in order to trace the
development of the family tree of religion back to its primordial roots: the original
Urfassung of all mythology. The methodological framework for this comparative approach
had been laid by the linguistic scholars who first deciphered India’s ancient Sanskrit texts in
order to explain the origins of language. In his Ueber die Sprache und Weisheit der Indier70
Friedrich von Schlegel had analysed Indian mythology from a philological and historical
perspective, and his brother August Wilhelm Schlegel would later claim that there are
many similarities between Óðinn and Buddha, and that the Old Norse religion might have
originated in India.71 In the first decades of the 19th century it was this organic,
evolutionary conception of mythology that became the key to unlocking the mysteries of
mythology; the very nature of the Danish essay prize question of 1816 indicates that the
comparative approach had already secured a solid foothold in European academia.72
In his Eddalæren og dens Oprindelse, Finnur indulges himself with adventurous
audacity in the comparison of Persian, Germanic, Jewish, Indian, Greek, Egyptian,
and even native American73 traditions. It is with considerable pride that, in the preface
to the fourth volume of this work, he announces he has proven Herder’s ideas on the
Asian origins of Eddic mythology.74 In his endeavour to connect the Old Norse branch
of mythology to the primeval Urmythe, he describes similarities between Western and
Eastern traditions, which can be considered rather bold; with his work, Finnur aspired
to open the world’s eyes to that ‘miraculous myth-tree that, from the summit of the
Asian heaven-mountain, spread its beautiful branches all over the ancient world’.75
One of the binding elements between most of the traditions under scrutiny is, to his
mind, the idea of reincarnation, or – related to that – shape-shifting. The recurring
theme of gods in Nordic and Greek traditions taking on the shape of animals or humans
led to the hypothesis of a connection between the oriental concept of reincarnation and
Europe’s oldest world views. As early as in 1750, Gottfried Schütze had argued against
this hypothesis, since he believed the ancient faith of the Germanic ancestors to have
been a noble natural form of proto-Protestantism, and therefore immune to ‘adven-
turous delusions’ like reincarnation.76 But that was before the advent of the Indo-
European theory, one of whose founding fathers – William Jones – had already
solidified the mythological relationship between West and East, when he claimed
that there could be absolutely no doubt about the fact
that Wod or Oden, whose religion, as the northern historians admit, was
introduced into Scandinavia by a foreign race, was the same with Buddh, whose
rites were probably imported into India nearly at the same time, though received
much later by the Chinese, who soften his name into Fo.77
The identification of Óðinn with the enlightened founder of Buddhism, suggested by

the linguistic similarities between their names,78 remained a popular theme in 19th-
century scholarship.79 Finnur endorses this theory in his Eddalæren og dens Oprindelse,
and demonstrates that the story of the Buddha is a myth, rather than an isolated story
based on historical fact. One indication of this is found in the Buddha’s connection to
the cow: the symbol of Indo-European religiosity par excellence. One of the Buddha’s
names, Gautama – according to Finnur, who bases this claim on earlier research –
should be translated as ‘cow herder’,80 an etymological assumption that places the
Buddha firmly in the same myth-tree that also contains the primordial cow Auðumbla
from the Eddic creation myth,81 the golden calf of the Israelites, the holy bull in
Egyptian mythology, Zeus’s and Juno’s transformations into a bull and a cow, the
Minotaur, and Indian cow worship, among others.82 Finnur also saw the Hindu myths
about the divine origin of the Ganges reflected in the story of the Eddic cow
Auðumbla, from whose udder four streams of milk originated.83 Like William
Jones, Finnur did not doubt that the figures of the Buddha and Óðinn originated
from the same mythological source. The idea was not that Buddhism had entered
Europe, where it eventually evolved into the religion of Óðinn, but rather that both
the Buddha and Óðinn were latter, local expressions of the same divine principle that
had been the focal point of the primeval religion preceding both traditions. In his Bidrag
til nordisk Archæologie Finnur claims that the many divine names of the Buddha and
Óðinn were the remnants of an ‘ancient primeval people’s [Urfolk] denomination of the
deity, that according to their beliefs incarnated or took human shape on multiple
occasions, and that manifested itself on earth as monarch, conqueror or teacher, in
order to educate the people and to make them happy’.84 The historical manifestations
of this deity, like the Buddha or the historical Óðinn of Snorri’s euhemeristic narrative,
were all considered earthly manifestations or avatars of one and the same universal
divine principle. Only from this point of view could the chaotic and confusing myriad
Odinic myths begin to make any sense at all to Finnur’s mind. Mythology was to be
conceived as a living organism in its own right, evolving in different directions
according to its own internal logic, and never as the work of one single individual. On
these grounds, Finnur dismissed the popular belief that the poems of the Poetic (or
Sæmundr’s) Edda had all been composed by Sæmundr the Learned:
That Gudmund Magnæus could imagine that Sæmundr Fróði or another individual
bard, close to him, had composed all the poems of the Elder Edda, which are so
very different in content, spirit, language and style, and obviously bear the actual
collector’s or copier’s touch – it seems to me quite unbelievable.85
Finnur’s attempts to reconstruct the ancient Eurasian myth-tree, connecting pre-

Christian Europe to the exotic cultures of the East, did not go unnoticed in Europe
and influenced the writings of mythologists everywhere.86 In Denmark his ideas and
interpretations stimulated the Romantic imagination of Adam Oehlenschläger and N.
F. S. Grundtvig, whose work can be considered exemplary of ‘the peculiar mixture of

scholarship and poetry in the nineteenth century’.87 Oehlenschläger’s famous collec-
tion of poems Nordens Guder (‘The Nordic Gods’) shows clear traces of such Indo-
European thought, creatively applied. In order to demonstrate the Indian connection to
the Old Norse gods, Freyja’s chariot is no longer pulled by two cats – as indicated by
the Eddic narrative88 – but by tigers, associated with the Indian origin of her husband
Óðr, whom she encounters east of the river Ganges.89 Óðr, arguably the most obscure
of all Eddic deities, is presented by Oehlenschläger as an exotic version of the Roman
wine god Bacchus, whose chariot was also pulled by tigers. This creative association
with exotic cultures is not a direct translation of Finnur’s ideas into poetry; Finnur
himself paid only limited attention to the relationship between Óðr and Freyja, and
compared them to Venus and Adonis rather than to Bacchus.90 The Indian connection
thematized in Oehlenschläger’s poem has thus been considered his own creative
invention.91 Nevertheless, the tendency to connect Eddic material to other, mainly
Mediterranean and Indian, mythological systems was undoubtedly rooted in the
academic comparativism promulgated in Finnur Magnússon’s lectures, which
Oehlenschläger frequented. His poetry is therefore an interesting example of the
poetic functionalization of philological theory, which would come to characterize the
work of several Icelandic poets as well.
Finnur’s Indo-European interpretation of the Eddas can be interpreted as an
attempt to emancipate the mythological heritage of the north, since it contributed to
a clearer understanding of the myths’ often obscure and impenetrable contents.
Through comparison with parallel myths from other cultures, Finnur argued, many
of the problematic stories acquired significance. This logical clarification of the myths
was important in order to uphold their status of ‘high literature’, which was under
attack from the so-called ‘anti-Eddists’92 who questioned their literary value on the
basis of their incomprehensibility. In the 18th century, German scholars like Johann
Christoph Adelung and, later, Friedrich Rühs dismissed the Eddas’ (euhemerized)
historicity as a falsehood, and considered the whole mythological corpus an aestheti-
cally inferior moloch without literary merit.93 By de-obscuring the myths and placing
them in a wholly new model of clarification, these denigrating claims could be
challenged on academic grounds. Like the anti-Eddists, Finnur dismissed the euhemer-
istic theory which had determined interpretations of the Eddas since Snorri Sturluson:
Eventually, they both [Óðinn and Zeus] suffered the same fate in that, over a long
period of time, they would be misinterpreted by mankind to such a degree that
Euhemerus and others would only acknowledge Zeus as a king of Crete, and several
Nordic authors would see in Odin only a prince in Asia or in Scandinavia […] I for
my part, am utterly convinced that both Odin and Zeus were originally cultivated
as the highest deities of heaven and our world.94
However, unlike the anti-Eddists, Finnur replaced the outdated euhemeristic model
with something new so that the Eddas remained ‘meaningful’ and therefore of great
cultural and literary value. By applying the Romantic concept of the omnipotent
Weltseele, as introduced by Schelling,95 Finnur could ‘reverse’ Snorri’s theory, and
explain euhemerism as a result of the lack of understanding of reincarnation and
metamorphosis in medieval Christendom. The god Óðinn had not been based on a
historical character, but the other way around: historical persons identified as Óðinn
had all been manifestations, avatars, of the same divine Weltseele, which was believed to
have penetrated all of creation and ‘could therefore manifest itself in the most
divergent shapes’.96 As the documented expressions of this eternal world-soul, the
myths contained universal and metaphysical truths concerning the life force underlying
all natural phenomena. According to Finnur, mythology was first and foremost a
systematized and allegorized philosophy of nature.
Natural mythology
By placing the Eddas in their Indo-European context, Finnur clarified the historical
origin and nature of Old Norse mythology, but not its deeper meaning. What was it,
exactly, that the omnipresent Weltseele was expressing in the world’s mythological
systems? In the introduction to the first volume of his Eddalæren, Finnur wrote:
It is certain that, in recent times, it has been attempted to demonstrate our

ancestors’ barbarity with arguments, the utter falseness of which results from the
apparent misinterpretation of our ancient poetic language. The noble ideas (asso-
ciated with profound grandeur and based on the correct observation of nature) that
form the foundation of the eddic teachings, could not but strengthen the high
opinion concerning their peculiar spirit [Aandskultur], that has since primordial
times been connected to perfection in the practice of the truly fine arts.97
In this passage, which is clearly directed against those anti-Eddists who sought to
critically reassess the cultural value of the Eddas, one discerns a typically Romantic,
holistic approach to the arts, to science, and to beauty, which is best summarized in
the Romantic creed that all that is ‘true, good and beautiful’ (‘das Wahre, Gute und
Schöne’) is essentially one, and springs from the same sublime source.98 True art, which
according to Romantic aesthetics is essentially timeless, shares its roots with natural
philosophy – or science – that is essentially true. It is on these Romantic grounds that
Finnur can argue in favour of the Eddas’ authentic character and their relevance to the
modern age. Like all true, beautiful, and good things, they originated from profound
contemplations on the sublimity of nature.
Finnur was not the first to suggest that mythology arose from the proto-scientific
observation, registration, and also poetic explanation of natural phenomena. There are,
of course, the obvious mythological references to natural phenomena in the Eddas, like
the ‘rainbow bridge’ (Bifröst) connecting the world of men to the realm of the gods,
and the ‘shaking of the earth’ every time Loki – bound to a rock as punishment for
Baldr’s death – shivered when poison from a snake’s mouth dripped onto his face.99 In
the Enlightenment discourse, mythology could therefore easily be discarded as a
primitive and superstitious precursor to the ‘serious’ sciences of the modern age.100
Ratio, and unintelligible, mythological obscurantism were quite simply irreconcilable.
However, when the utilitarian and mechanical approach to nature began to be
considered a defect rather than an accomplishment and a symptom of our Western
estrangement from nature, naturally the more sentimental, artistic, and mystical
conception of nature – popularized by the Ossian vogue of the late 1700s – was
‘rediscovered’ in the natural narrative of the Eddas. In the myths, the Romantic mind
could discern that primordial proximity to nature that later generations of Westerners
had forgotten and betrayed: a paradise lost. Especially in the philosophy of Herder, the
natural character of the authorless myths is equated with the organic origin of the Volk,
which in essence transcended history.
In the second half of the 19th century, the natural interpretation of myth found its
most influential proponent in Max Müller, editor of the 50-volume collection of Sacred
Books of the East (Oxford),101 who argued that all the world’s mythological systems
were in fact allegorical accounts of solar events. According to him, Homer’s Iliad was
in essence a poetic rendering of the sun’s battle with the clouds and had therefore little
to do with actual history.102 The gods had initially, in the early stages of human
development, been abstract concepts that facilitated the exchange of complex ideas.
Even after these abstract concepts had become personified and the gods had become
persons, the multitude of Indo-European god names could still offer an indication of
their initial meaning. For instance, the names Zeus, Jupiter, Dyaus Pita, as well as the
terms deva and deus/theos, all indicated that the original ‘father god’, the focal point of
all traditions, was linguistically connected to ‘light’ or ‘shining’; characteristics of the
life-bringing sun and its beams of light.103 Although Finnur Magnússon and Müller
were, academically speaking, no contemporaries – Finnur wrote in the first and Müller
in the second half of the 19th century – they were both exponents of the Romantic
school of myth interpretation, which considered myths to be the unhistorical, organi-
cally evolved and collective expressions of a people’s natural philosophy. Schelling had
argued that through mythology the modern sciences could finally find their way back
to ‘the ocean of poetry’,104 and his concept of the Weltseele, the animating force behind
the evolution of mythological systems, inspired both Finnur and Müller, the latter of
whom had even studied under the elderly Schelling in Berlin, and translated the
Sanskrit Upanishads for him.
Finnur’s nature-myth theory is best illustrated in his speculations concerning the
nature of the giants (jötnar) and their perpetual conflict with Þórr, the archetypal giant-
slayer. The antagonism of giants and gods, a common feature in many mythological
systems,105 was interpreted by Oehlenschläger as the struggle between ‘two conflict-
ing powers of nature: the creative embellishing power; and the defacing destructive
one’.106 Finnur took this scientification of the Eddic narrative a few steps further, and
discerned in it a reflection of the most advanced theories concerning the origin of the
earth (geogony) of his time: a ‘highly unexpected and baffling correspondence […]
between the ancient cosmogony of the Edda and the results of research by the latest
and most learned geologists’.107 The specific geological theory Finnur believed he had
discovered in mythological allegory was that of the so-called neptunists, who believed
that all of the world’s rock and solid elements had – in an early stage of the earth’s
development – originated from the oceans, where the crystallization of minerals took
place.108 In the Eddic creation myth, this process was anthropomorphized in the figure
of Ymir, the primordial frost giant and ancestor of all the jötnar, who represents the
original chaotic state of primordial, raw matter. He is slain by the gods Óðinn, Vili,
and Vé, who Finnur interprets as the personifications of the creative powers of air,
warmth, and light.109 They fashion the earth with its mountains from Ymir’s flesh and
bones, the oceans and rivers from his blood, and the firmament from his skull, which is
carried on the shoulders of the four dwarves named North, South, East, and West
(Norðri, Suðri, Austri, and Vestri).110 The great flood caused by the blood gushing from
Ymir’s slain body, in which many creatures – but no humans – were drowned, is
interpreted by Finnur as evidence for the proposition that the Old Norse already knew
that, at a certain point in the earth’s history, there had been a global deluge,
responsible for the disappearance of all those strange species that are now only
known from the fossil record; a common explanation for the mysterious disappearance
of species in the 18th and early 19th centuries.111 The Eddas thus provide their readers
with exactly the same knowledge as modern geologists do, only in ‘different terms’.112
As Klaus Böldl has pointed out, Finnur did not attempt to translate the Eddic creation
myth to modern scientific language; ‘rather, Werner’s Neptunic geogony is retrans-
lated [rückübersetzt] into the imagery of the Edda’.113
However, the scientific content of the Eddas is by no means restricted to geology and
the origins of the earth, Finnur argued. The myths could also be interpreted as complex
accounts of a meteorological, cosmological, and an astronomical nature. He was absolutely
convinced that the Old Norse had already observed the movements of the stars, using the
same zodiacal system of 12 signs that astronomers of later generations would use. After a
thorough exegesis of the poem Grímnismál of the Poetic Edda, Finnur concluded that part of
it is essentially a ‘poetic calendar’ and that each of the 12 animal signs of the modern zodiac
corresponded to one of the gods, as well as to one of their mythical dwelling places in the
sky. In his Danish Edda translation, Den ældre Edda, Finnur provides an overview of these
correspondences, which indicates that the astrological sign Leo corresponds to the goddess
Freyja and her hall in Ásgarðr, Fólkvángr, and that Gemini should be equated to the god
Baldr and his hall Breiðablik.114 Other heavenly lights, like meteors and the aurora
borealis, are symbolized by the Valkyries, riding in the night sky.115 According to
Finnur, the astronomical knowledge encoded in these mythological terms was put to
very practical use, and ‘even the Catholic priests and monks’ had recognized its merits:
ordinary citizens in Iceland and other countries could work out a whole almanac,
as far as the adopted calculation of time and holydays were concerned, with the
help of certain verses, one for each month, which indicates in part the character of
the season, and in part the timing of important days.116
By memorizing the versified movements of the mythological characters between their

respective celestial dwelling places, the ancient Scandinavians possessed a priceless
source of – very practical and even essential – information. Needless to say, when the
astronomical context in which they originated is discarded, the myths become inac-
cessible, useless, and utterly incomprehensible. This was exactly the mistake that the
anti-Eddists and those who considered the Eddas little more than distorted Nordic
adaptations of classical and Christian motives – like Finnur’s rival Torkel Baden – had
made; any lack of respect for the ancient myths could only possibly result from a lack
of understanding on the side of the interpreter.117 Like the Grimm brothers, Finnur
argued that much of this primordial natural wisdom had survived in contemporary
folklore, and he consequently became one of the first advocates for a Grimm-styled
folktale collection in Iceland, aimed at preserving this treasure trove of oral tradition
before it was too late.118
Finnur’s bald statements concerning ‘the right way’ to approach the ancient myths
did not pass unnoticed. Indeed, they resonated throughout Europe. Although his
controversial use of a great variety of sources gave rise to debates concerning his
scholarly skills, overall his writings cemented his position as an international authority
on Eddic mythology.119 In the long term, Finnur’s urge to move beyond the words
and render the mythological world view enshrined in the Eddas tangible to his
readership in other, more visual ways had a lasting effect on the way later generations
would envision the ‘Eddic universe’. The issue of spatializing Old Norse cosmology,
with its nine worlds, the world-ash Yggdrasil, and the Midgard Serpent encircling the
world of men (Miðgarðr), was one on which Finnur pondered quite intensely. As
Margaret Clunies Ross has demonstrated in a recent article, Finnur initially applied the
schematic, classical – Ptolemaic – cartographical device of the rota, or wheel map,
consisting of several concentric circles – with Yggdrasil at its centre – to bring order
into the chaos of conflicting Old Norse accounts.120 A less schematic, more evocative
and three-dimensional rendering of the same cosmology eventually appeared in the
endpapers of his Eddalæren (volume 4), and depicts – among other things – the World
Tree (Verdenstræet), the streams at its roots, and the rainbow bridge connecting
Miðgarðr to the world of the gods (Figure 1). Even though this visualization has been
criticized for many (valid) reasons, and some of its aspects openly contradict the Old
Norse sources – like Finnur’s insistence on presenting parts of the tree, clearly
described as roots, as branches – some of Finnur’s strongest opponents have resorted
to his orderly (over)simplification when clarifying the ancient myths to a general
audience. One could argue that they did not have much choice in this matter, since
Finnur’s visual rendition was the first of its kind and there were no rivalling
alternatives to speak of.121 Its popularity can be attributed largely to the fact that J.
A. Blackwell, who had described Finnur’s ideas as belonging to the ‘most groundless
assumptions imaginable’, decided to include the image in his third edition (1847) of
Bishop Percy’s immensely influential Northern Antiquities (first edition: 1770).122 After
that, it has been copied and imitated innumerable times, providing the modern world
with a fixed – and somewhat flawed – impression of what ‘our ancestors’ may have
believed in terms of cosmology. Forgotten though his scholarship may have become,
one could argue that no single individual has had a more profound influence on our
modern spatial conception of the Old Norse world view than Finnur, no matter how
‘groundless’ some of his underlying assumptions may have proven to be. Given the
nature of the present study, the actual validity of Finnur’s theories should not concern
us any further, however. Instead, we will now turn to the matter of national identity
FIGURE 1 Finnur’s influential visualization of Yggdrasil, included in the endpapers of volume three
of his Eddalæren og dens Oprindelse.
and examine how Finnur’s philological activities can be related to his ideas on what it
meant to ‘be an Icelander’.
Finnur as an Icelander
It would be an anachronistic fallacy to conclude from Finnur’s description of the Eddas
as ‘monuments of the Danish nation’ that he was somehow less interested in his own
Icelandic background or the concept of an Icelandic nation. Finnur, who was equally
fluent in both languages, considered himself both a Dane and an Icelander and saw no
conflict in this double identity.123 In this respect, he represents a more classical form of
cultural national identity, which preceded the political nationalism of the 19th century
and which was less antagonistic and programmatic in nature.124 This ‘double identity’
rendered Finnur a problematic figure for later generations of Icelandic Romantic
nationalists, to whom the division between ‘Icelandic’ and ‘Danish’ was a rather
clear one indeed, and who deeply disapproved of Finnur’s pro-Danish interpretation
of Old Norse-Icelandic literature.125
It is important to keep in mind that throughout the 19th century, as the Icelandic
national movement gained momentum, practically all Icelandic intellectuals involved in
it benefitted from amicable connections of some sort with Denmark’s academic or
political institutions, and that even the most fervent nationalist could not envision an
Icelandic future in which Denmark would not play a significant part. An abrupt and
complete secession from the realm, as propagated by the – Danish! – maverick Jørgen
Jørgensen, known in Icelandic as Jörundur hundadagakonungur (‘dog-days king’), who

had declared the island independent and himself its protector, was not considered a
serious option or even desirable among the more realistic Icelanders. In 1809, at the
time of Jørgensen’s very short-lived Icelandic adventure, Finnur steadily refused to
betray ‘his king’ by recognizing the authority of the usurper, or his proclamation of
Iceland’s independence. This display of loyalty to the Danish throne did not go
unnoticed and assured him of a prosperous political career at the court in
Copenhagen, where he represented the Icelandic people as an integral part of the
realm.126
Simultaneously, however, Finnur shared Rask’s concerns about the future of the
Icelandic language and called upon his fellow Icelanders to initiate a national literary
and cultural renaissance. In Íslenzk sagnablöð, the periodical of Hið íslenzka
bókmenntafélag, of which he was one of the co-founders, he encouraged his countrymen
to pick up their pens and create Icelandic literature:
Icelanders! Our duty and honour require deeds and diligence from us, if we do not
want to be suffocated by our reputation and let it be known to the world that our
fathers’ spirit has left us, and all attempts will fail if literature and international
knowledge are not maintained amongst us.127
To Finnur’s mind, the ancient manuscripts with which he was so well acquainted were
more than simply antiquarian artefacts or objects of academic scrutiny; they were the
legacy of the forefathers and therefore an assignment for modern Icelanders, who had to
live up to the literary reputation their people had enjoyed for centuries. In other words,
the achievements of modern Icelanders had to be excellent, because the achievements of
medieval Icelanders had also been excellent; a sentiment which would be echoed in the
paradigmatic and highly Romantic poem Ísland (1835) by Iceland’s national poet Jónas
Hallgrímsson.128 It was thus the past that determined the standard for the present and
the future, and attaining that high standard constituted a matter of national honour.129
Finnur himself also moved beyond the mere study of literature, and contributed
his poetic share to the renaissance he envisioned. As a student he had already published
a collection of poems in Danish (Ubetydeligheder; ‘Inconsequentialities’),130 and
throughout his life he would continue to write poetry in both Icelandic and Danish.
His Icelandic poems shed some light on his ideas on Icelandic identity, and in the final
years of his life he was one of the initiators of a new phenomenon in Icelandic poetry,
which would become an almost obligatory constituent of every poetic oeuvre in the
19th century: the homage to Jón Sigurðsson, leader of Iceland’s national movement.131
As a young student in Copenhagen, Jón had worked for some time as a scribe for
Finnur. Many years later, on the occasion of Jón’s departure from Copenhagen to the
newly established Alþingi in Reykjavík (1845), Finnur would compose the following
verses in honour of his former employee:
By the salty Faxi Bay132

It [the Alþingi] resides in Ingólfur’s town133
For the first time for Iceland;
There sounds the voice of the nation,
Useful, wise, strong,
Mending, mild and firm,
Many a damage to favour!

Parliament is resurrected,
And will be praised
Around beautiful Iceland!
Here it received a representative
Who now has to say goodbye:
Wherever he will go,
Prosperity will embrace Jón!134
In Finnur’s experience, there was no discrepancy between being a loyal subject of the
Danish king and at the same time subscribing wholeheartedly to Jón Sigurðsson’s realistic
programme for greater political autonomy – but not necessarily complete independence –
for Iceland. He supported Jón’s patriotic Realpolitik, which was the reasonable and healthy
alternative to Jørgensen’s radical and irresponsible usurpation 36 years earlier.
As these verses – along with his plea for a national regeneration based on the Old
Norse-Icelandic heritage – serve to demonstrate, Finnur was every bit as much a ‘Romantic
nationalist’ as Oehlenschläger or Grundtvig were. In order for an artistic revival of the Old
Norse spirit to occur in Iceland, the literary tradition on which it would be based first had to
be properly understood and protected against its ‘enemies’, who denied the original genius
embodied in the Eddas and sagas. With considerable academic ferocity, Finnur took upon
himself the role of protector and defended his ‘national heritage’ through polemical
writings, directed against rivals like Torkel Baden and others who believed that only
Greek culture could be conceived as the cradle of human civilization.135 An important
element of his attempt to upgrade the international status of Old Norse-Icelandic culture lies
in his presentation of Eddic mythology as a noble branch in the great tree of Indo-European
culture. Paradoxically – because of this universalization of the Eddas – Finnur may be
compared to that other great Icelandic mythologist, the medieval poet, statesman, and
historian Snorri Sturluson. Even though Finnur strongly rejected the idea that mythology
was merely a primitive and distorted kind of historiography, and even reversed the
euhemeristic thesis propagated by Snorri with his Romantic philosophy of the Weltseele,
both mythologists sought to preserve and emancipate their cultural heritage by placing the
myths in a larger framework of international significance. For Finnur, this discursive
framework of signification consisted of natural science and the Indo-European theory; for
Snorri it was the classical myth of ancient Troy, admired throughout Europe. Despite the
difference in content, it could be argued that they shared the same goal – emancipation –
and applied a similar strategy – encapsulation into a universal narrative – in order to achieve
it. Also, both emphasized the relevance of mythological themes and narratives to the
contemporary arts; Snorri’s Edda is structured as a handbook for aspiring poets; and Finnur
maintained, as we have seen, that the Old Norse myths were at least equally appropriate for
modern artistic expression as the classical ones had been for centuries. In this context, the
link between mythology and identity becomes evident: knowledge of the Eddas enables one
to solve the little word games or riddles (kenningar) contained in poetry inspired by the Old
Norse corpus, both ancient and modern.136 This knowledge, contained in the community
sharing the same narrative, becomes a prerequisite for understanding and participating in
the literary discourse, and consequently an instrument of in- and exclusion: those equipped
with the appropriate knowledge to play the game are in, all the others are out. Due to this
function as community builder, mythological systems remained culturally relevant long
after the loss of their religious significance.137
It is this Romantic occupation with the relevance of myth in the modern world which
sets Finnur apart from previous generations of Icelandic Edda exegetes. By undermining the
outdated euhemeristic theory, he removed the Eddas from the dusty realm of antiquarian
curiosities and fruitless speculations on the historical origins of these Asian men. Instead,
Finnur proposed a more dynamic approach, which catapulted the ancient texts towards the
cutting edges of modern geology, astronomy, and comparative linguistics. This de-
historicization of Old Norse mythology facilitated a more symbolic, psychological, and
internalized interpretation of the myths, which became the hallmark of Romantic mytho-
graphy in the 19th century. I have demonstrated that this Romantic conception of
mythology was by no means Finnur’s own invention, and that his theories were firmly
rooted in contemporary ideas in comparative linguistics and Romantic philology and
philosophy. Nevertheless, no one in the Nordic world before him had ever combined
and applied these divergent discourses to ‘defend’ Scandinavia’s cultural heritage against its
adversaries, and simultaneously promoted its artistic significance to this age of ‘national
awakenings’. At the same time, Finnur rendered philological concepts from Germany
accessible and useful to Icelanders and Danes, and in turn provided German scholars with
knowledge about the ancient language and culture of the north.
These activities define Finnur Magnússon as one of the crucial bridge builders, or
cultural brokers, of his age, and make him an appropriate starting point for any research
into the dissemination of ideas within the elaborate network of Nordic and European
intellectuals involved in the construction of their respective national philologies.138
Finnur has been criticized for being unable to ‘set limits to his imagination’,139 and
not without good reason. But it is exactly the imaginative and visionary element of his
work, spiced up with superlatives and occasional outbursts of patriotic enthusiasm,
which paved the way for a more poetic strand of Edda reception in Scandinavian culture.
Acknowledgements
I wish to thank Andrew Wawn, Terry Gunnell, Margaret Clunies Ross, Monika Baár,
Annette Lassen, Gottskálk Jensson, Gylfi Gunnlaugsson, and Vala Védís Guðmundsdóttir
for their help and valuable suggestions regarding this article. I would also like to extend my
gratitude to the two anonymous reviewers for their fruitful comments.
Disclosure statement
No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author.
Notes
1 See Leerssen, ‘Ossian’.
2 Poser, ‘Mythos und Vernunft’.
3 Böldl, Der Mythos der Edda, 238.
4 Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie.
5 See Shippey, ‘A Revolution Reconsidered’.
6 Hálfdanarson, ‘Iceland’, 90.
7 Magnússon, Den ældre Edda.
8 Magnússon, Eddalæren og dens Oprindelse.

9 Stefánsson Hjaltalín, guð er sá, sem talar, 356.
10 Óskarsson, ‘Nasjonale som de store nasjonene’, 127.
11 Finnur dedicated a whole treatise to the interpretation of the Ossian poems. See
Magnússon, Forsøg.
12 Wawn, The Vikings, 189.
13 Saxo Grammaticus, The Danish History, Preface and Book 7 (Gesta Danorum,
Preface). Nevertheless, Ole Worm informed his 17th-century readership that
he was still able to discern the word ‘Lund’ in some of the mysterious and
withered signs; see Kjær, ‘Runer og revner’.
14 Magnússon, Runamo, 287–320.
15 Ibid., 65–7.
16 Kjær, ‘Runer og revner’.
17 For obvious reasons, I will not elaborate on the very original and mystical claim,
voiced by modern devotees of the new age neo-pagan movement, that nature
actually expresses herself in ‘natural runes’, and that Finnur Magnússon and
Berzelius were therefore both right. See, for instance, ‘Lorsque la Nature’.
18 Valsson, ‘En runologs uppgång’, 52: ‘På Magnússons tid kunde man tillåta sig lite
romantisk blandning av arkeologi, historia, mytologi och inte minst fantasi, i sin
tolkning av runor. Den tiden var snart för evigt borta, och den enda person som
efter Runamo-affären syntes bevara sin tro på Magnússons teori var den gamle N.
F.S. Grundtvig, själv en stor beundrare av nordisk mytologi’.
19 Kristjánsson, ‘Finnur Magnússon: 150. ártíð’, 90–1; Porter, ‘Preserving the
Past’.
20 In his autobiographical work, Dægradvöl, 164: ‘Finnur var frægur um öll lönd’.
21 Due to these British correspondences, some of Finnur’s interesting writings on
mythology ended up largely disregarded in British collections. See Clunies Ross,
‘Images of Norse Cosmology’.
22 Rask, Undersögelse.
23 Markey, ‘Rasmus Kristian Rask’, xx.
24 Ibid., viii.
25 Rask, ‘Frumvarp’.
26 The theory commonly known as ‘Grimm’s law’, concerning the ‘first Germanic
sound shift’, was actually first described by Rask. Nowadays the law is often
referred to as ‘Rask’s Grimm’s rule’.
27 For an edition of the brothers’ correspondences with Nordic scholars, see

Schmidt, Briefwechsel, 203–11. Contained therein are three letters from Finnur
to Wilhelm (and Jacob) Grimm. Two letters from Wilhelm Grimm to Finnur,
presumed non-extant by Schmidt, were recovered and published by Mitchell,
‘Wilhelm Grimm’s Letters’.
28 Mitchell, ‘Wilhelm Grimm’s Letters’, 71.
29 Ibid., 72.
30 Magnússon, Den ældre Edda, vol. 3, 75.
31 Mitchell, ‘Wilhelm Grimm’s Letters’, 73.
32 Ibid., 75.
33 Skúladóttir and Schopka, ‘Landkönnuðurinn’, 4.
34 These findings were published in the Bericht über die zur Bekanntmachung geeigneten
Verhandlungen der Königlich-Preussischen Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin,
149–53.
35 Skúladóttir and Schopka, ‘Landkönnuðurinn’.

36 For Finnur’s letters to Gräter, see Jørgensen, Breve fra Finn Magnusen.
37 Gräter, Nordische Blumen.
38 For an overview, see Heinrichs, ‘Die Brüder Grimm’.
39 Gräter, ‘Der Donnergott’. In this peculiar piece, which Gräter had written 15
years earlier, this story is told by the fictional priest Kiartan, teaching his pupil
Werdomar. See Böldl, Der Mythos der Edda, 115–16.
40 See W. Grimm, Drei altschottische Lieder, 17–22.
42 Heinrichs, ‘Die Brüder Grimm’.
43 Full title: Edda Saemundar hinns Fróda: Edda rhythmica seu antiquior, vulgo
Saemundina dicta: ex codice biblioth. Regiae Hafniensis pergameno, nec non diversis legati
Arnae-Magnaeani et aliorum membraneis chartaceisque melioris notae manuscriptis: cum
interpretatione Latina, lectionibus variis, notis, glossario vocum et ind. Rerum.
44 Full title: Priscae veterum borealium mythologiae lexicon, cuncta illius cosmologica,
theosophica & daemonica numina, entia et loca ordine alphabetico indicans, illustrans et
e magna parte cum exteris, ista contingentibus, comparans: accedit septentrionalium
Gothorum, Scandinavorum aut Danorum gentile calendarium, ex Asia oriuntum, jam
primum expositum et cum variis cognatarum gentium fastis, festis et solennibus ritibus
vel superstitionibus collatum.
45 Magnússon, Priscae veterum, vii–viii.
46 The three volumes were, for instance, along with Resen’s Edda of 1665 and
Guðmundur Andrésson’s edition of 1683, still for sale in Victorian England. See
Wawn, The Vikings, 19.
47 Magnússon, Den ældre Edda, vol. 1, iii: ‘som den Danske tunges aeldste mind-
esmaerke’. All translations in this article are my own, unless stated otherwise.
The language of the Edda could be presented as Danish on the ground that Old
Norse was, until sometime in the Middle Ages, referred to as the dönsk tunga
(‘the Danish tongue’). The full identification of this language with modern Danish
was, of course, a politically advantageous anachronism.
48 Magnússon, Den ældre Edda, vol. 1, v (italics added): ‘Er man först bleven
bekjendt med sit Fædrelands Oldtid, og dets senere Fortid, saa kan man
bedömme hvorvidt Nutiden er os fremmed eller ikke, hvad vi selv kunne betragte
som vort Eget, som laant eller paatvunget os af andre. Vi lære saaledes at kjende
den ægte nationale Aand, hvorpaa vor Tilværelse i det hele grunder sig – og
indsee da, at de tre Hovedfolk, som i Almindelighed kaldes de nordiske (Danske,
Svenske og Nordmænd) ere oprindelig Brödre, have forhen talt et Tungemaal of
været af en Tro’.
49 Magnússon, Den ældre Edda, vol. 1, vi: ‘Vi leve i en Tid da Nordens
Videnskabsmænd ogsaa værdige vore egne Oldsagn og Oldtids-Vidskab deres
Opmærksomhed, istedet for blot at hige efter det Fremmede. Mange blandt de
Vældige og Formuende, saavelsom og de Oplyste blandt Folket af alle Stænder,
hylde den samme Aand, og den fortjener vistnok ikke at lastes. I det mindste
synes det, som angaaer vort eget Fædreland, mest at vedkomme os selv’.
50 Magnússon, Bidrag, v–viii.
51 Magnússon, Den ældre Edda, vol. 4. Finnur also mentions that this debate soon
spilled over into Germany, where it continued in 1823.
52 Magnússon, Den ældre Edda, vol. 4: ‘som en rig Kilde til fortrinlige Gjenstande for
artistisk Fremstilling’.
53 Torkel Baden, secretary of the Danish Art Academy, believed that art would find
its tomb in Old Norse mythology and fiercely defended the classical style during
the so-called Mythologie-Striden in Denmark (1812–1821). See Baden, Om den
nordiske Mythologies Ubrugbarhed for de skjønne Kunster.
54 Ólafsson, Om Nordens gamle Digtekonst.
55 For a historical overview of this discussion, see Lassen, Hrafnagaldur, 9–18.
56 Magnússon, Den ældre Edda, vol. 2, 210: ‘Jeg tvivler aldeles ikke om dette Digts
AEgthed og AElde’.
57 Magnússon, Den ældre Edda, vol. 2, 210: ‘Det vise först og fremmest dets
ældgamle Ord, samt tillige dets fragmentariske Væsen, og især dets ægte
mythiske Aand samt den Omstændighed, at det kun har saare faa Hentydninger
til de ellers af Eddaer eller Sagaer bekjendte Fortællinger’. See also Lassen,
Hrafnagaldur, 10.
58 Magnússon, Den ældre Edda, vol. 2, 209, 213. Here Finnur also illustrates the
poem’s infamous obscurity with the anecdote concerning Eiríkur Hallson, who
even after 10 years of intense scrutiny admitted that he ‘still understood little or
nothing’ of the poem.
59 Magnússon, Den ældre Edda, vol. 2, 214: ‘Dog vil jeg ikke fortie den Sandhed at
det samme Digts egentlige Oversættelse med Anmærkninger, neppe har kostet
mig et Par Dages Tid i det hele. Det er ingenlunde for at anbringe nogen Selvros
at jeg anmærker dette (især da jeg dog ikke har formaaet at löse alle de her
forekommende svære Problemer), men kun for at gjöre mine Læserne
opmærksomme paa den Lethed, hvormed saa mange af de vanskeligste
Eddasteder kunne oplyses og forklares, naar man först har overskuet vore
Forfædres mythiske System fra den rigtige Standpunkt’. Anonymous English
translation in ‘Hrafnagaldur Óðins eða Forspjallsljóð’, italics added.
60 Magnússon, Den ældre Edda, vol. 2, 214: ‘der mentes at være udsendte fra
Himlens, Luftens og Aandens Gud, fra hvem ogsaa Menneskets Aand udgik.
[…] Hin Titel kunde altsaa fortolkes simpelt hen for Phantasiens Tryllesang eller
digterisk Indbildnings Sammenspind’. Translation in ‘Hrafnagaldur Óðins eða
Forspjallsljóð’, italics in original.
61 On psychological internalization as the hallmark of the Romantic treatment of
myth, see Chase, ‘The Ragnarok Within’.
_
62 This poem is only extent in several later paper copies of the Poetic Edda, and is
generally attributed to the poet Gunnar Pálsson (1712–1793). See Bugge, Norroen
Fornkvaedi, xlviii.
63 See Lassen, ‘Hrafnagaldur Óðins/Forspjallsljóð’.
64 Full title: Eddalæren og dens oprindelse eller Nöjagtig fremstilling af de gamle nordboers
digtninger og meninger om verdens, gudernes, aandernes og menneskenes tilblivelse, natur og
skjæbne i udförlig sammenligning saavel med naturens store bog, som med grækers, persers, inders
og flere gamle folks mythiske systemer og troesmeninger med indblandede historiske undersögelser
over den gamle verdens mærkværdigste nationers herkomst og ældste forbindelser &c.
65 Rask, in a letter to Nyerup (11 June 1818), quoted in Piebenga, Een studie, 20
(italics added).
66 Full title: Udsigt over den kaukasiske Menneskestammes ældste Hjemsted og Udvandringer.
Fremstilt i en Indledning til Forelæsninger over den nordiske Mythologie og de dertil
hörende eddiske Sange.
67 Magnússon, Udsigt over den kaukasiske Menneskestammes ældste Hjemsted, 3–4:

‘Aarsagerne til den Lighed, som de indisk-persiske Religionssystemer have med
andre Asiens, Afrikas og Europas ældste Nationers i Almindelighed og vore
nordiske i Særdeleshed’.
69 See Creuzer, Symbolik und Mythologie der alten Völker, besonders der Griechen.
70 Schlegel, Ueber die Sprache.
71 See Schlegel, Indische Bibliothek, vol. 1, 25–3. See also Lassen, Odin, 44.
72 On this paradigm shift in the study of mythology, see Shippey, ‘A Revolution
Reconsidered’.
73 See Magnússon, Eddalæren, vol. 1, xii–xv. For the only recently researched American
traditions he refers to the work of Wilhelm von Humboldt (1767–1835), the older
brother of Alexander.
74 Magnússon, Eddalæren, vol. 4, iii–iv.
75 Ibid., vol. 1, 67: ‘… det vidunderlige Mythetræ, som udbredte sine skjönne
Grene over hele den gamle Verden fra de asiatiske Himmelbjerges Tinde.’
76 Gottfried Schütze, quoted in Böldl, Der Mythos der Edda, 212.
77 Jones, ‘The Third Anniversary Discourse’ (italics in original). See also Böldl, Der
Mythos der Edda, 213.
78 Apart from the comparison between Buddh and Wod, the Buddha’s personal
family name, Gautama, was connected to Gaut/Gautr, one of Óðinn’s many
names, and the Buddha’s title, Sakyamuni, to Sigge (Óðinn) and even the great
eddic hero Sigurðr. See Böldl, Der Mythos der Edda, 215–16.
79 For example Vilhelm Fridrik Palmblad’s De Buddha et Wodan dissertatio (1822). See
Lassen, Odin, 47–9.
80 Magnússon, Eddalæren, vol. 1, 295.
81 For Auðumbla’s role in the Old Norse creation myth, see Sturluson, The Prose
Edda, ch. 6.
82 Magnússon, Eddalæren, vol. 1, 285–97.
83 Ibid., 295.
84 Magnússon, Bidrag, 14: ‘Alle disse Navne kunne vel ansees som Levninger af et
ældgammelt asiatisk Urfolks Benævnelse paa Guddommen, som efter dens
Mening flere Gange incarneredes eller isertes menneskelig Skikkelse, og viste
sig paa Jorden som Monark, Erobrer eller Lærer, for at inksaliggjere og under-
wise Folkene’.
85 Magnússon, Den ældre Edda, vol. 2, 211: ‘At Gudmund Magnæus kunde indbilde sig,
at Sæmund Frode eller en anden enkelt Skjald, havde – paa denne nær – digtet alle
Den ældre Eddas Sange, som dog ere saa höist forskjellige i Inhold, Aand, Sprog og
Stil, samt bære aabenbare den nöjagtige Samlers eller Opskrivers Præg – det falder
mig höist ubegribeligt.’ (Italics original). Translation in ‘Hrafnagaldur Óðins eða
Forspjallsljóð’.
86 See, for instance, Wawn, The Vikings, 190.
87 Egilsson, Arfur og umbylting, 183: ‘hina sérstöku blöndu fræða og skáldskapar á 19.
öld’.
88 See, for instance, Sturluson, The Prose Edda, ch. 24.
89 Oehlenschläger, Nordens Guder, 195–204. See also Egilsson, Arfur og umbylting,
196–205.
90 Magnússon, Priscae veterum, 377–8.

91 Compare with Falbe-Hansen, Øhlenschlægers nordiske digtning, 33–5. See also
Egilsson, Arfur og umbylting, 198.
92 The polemical term anti-Eddist was introduced by Rasmus Nyerup. See Böldl, Der
Mythos der Edda, 113.
94 Magnússon, Eddalæren, vol. 1, 345: ‘Endelig havde de begge den samme Skjæbne
ved i Tidens Længde at miskjendes saaledes af Menneskeslægten, at Euhemerus og
flere kun vilde erkjende Zeus for en Konge paa Kreta, ligesom adskillige nordiske
Forfattere kun see i Odin en Fyrste i Asien eller Skandinavien. […] Jeg for min
Del er aldeles overbevist om, at saavel Odin som Zeus bleve oprindelig dyrkede
som Himlens og vor Verdens överste Guddomme’ (italics in original).
Paraphrased in Lassen, Odin, 250.
95 See Schelling, Von der Weltseele, from 1798.
96 Magnússon, Eddalæren, vol. 4, 33: ‘og saaledes at kunne vise sig i de allerfor-
anderligste Skikkelser’.
97 Magnússon, Eddalæren, vol. 1, xii: ‘Vist er det, at man i de nyeste Tider har sögt
at bevise vore Oldfædres Barbarie af Grunde, hvis fuldkomme Falskhed beroer
paa öjensynlige Misfortolkninger af vort gamle Digtersprog. De ophöjede Ideer
(forbundne med dybsinig Grandskning og ofte forunderligen rigtig
Naturbetragtning) som ligge til Grund for den eddiske Lære, kunne ikke andet
end styrke hin höje Mening om deres særegne Aandskultur, som langt fra ikke
alletider er forbunden med Fuldkommenhed i de egentlig praktiske skjönne
Kunster’.
98 This idea was derived from Platon’s ideal philosophy, and the Greek concept of
kalokagathia (καλoκαγαθiα), in which beauty and goodness were merged. It was
revived in the writings of the German idealists, to whom Schelling belonged.
99 See, for instance, Sturluson, The Prose Edda, ch. 50.
100 On this enlightened hostility towards mythology, see Poser, ‘Mythos und
Vernunft’.
101 Müller, Sacred Books of the East.
102 Heinrich Schliemann’s claim to have recovered the site of ancient Troy based on
indications from the Homeric writings was therefore a ridiculous one in Müller’s
eyes. See Flügge, Heinrich Schliemanns Weg, 237.
103 For an overview of Müller’s mythological scholarship, see Chaudhuri, Friedrich

Max Müller.
104 See Böldl, Der Mythos der Edda, 238.
105 Compare for instance the epic war between the Olympian gods and the Titans
(Titanomachy) in Greek mythology.
106 Oehlenschläger, introduction to Nordens Guder, i: ‘to modsatte Naturkræfter: Den
skabende, skienne, den forstorrende plumpe Magt; Loke svæver mellen begge,
som den vaklende Tidsaand’. Paraphrased and translated in Arnold, Thor, 108.
107 Magnússon, Eddalæren, vol. 1, 48: ‘en höjst uventet og forunderlig
Overensstemmelse […] mellem Eddas ældgamle Kosmogonie, og Resultaterne
af de nyeste og lærdeste Geologers Undersögelser’.
108 This theory was first proposed by Abraham Gotlob Werner in the late 18th
century and was opposed by the plutonists, who believed that rock had been
formed in fire (volcanism).

110 See Sturluson, The Prose Edda, ch. 14.
112 Ibid., 44.
113 Böldl, Der Mythos der Edda, 238: ‘vielmehr wird die neptunische Geogonie
Werners in die Bildersprache der Edda rückübersetzt’.
114 Magnússon, Den ældre Edda, vol. 1, 148.
115 Helgason, ‘Finnur Magnússon’, 235.
116 Magnússon, Den ældre Edda, vol. 1, 149; ‘Selv de katholske Præster og Munke
antoge tildeels denne Læremaade, og det er en Levning deraf, at Almuesmænd i
Island og flere Lande kunne udregne en heel Almanak, forsaavidt de vedtagne
Tidsbestemmelser og Fester angaaer, ved Hjelp af visse Vers, et for hver Maaned,
hvori deels Aarstidens Beskaffenhed, og deels de mærkeligste Dage, antydes’.
117 The ‘archaeoastronomical’ interpretation of the myths never became dominant in
Eddic scholarship. Nevertheless, some modern scholars, like Gísli Sigurðsson, are
fervent supporters of this theory. See, for instance, Sigurðsson, ‘Snorri’s Edda’.
118 I would like to thank Terry Gunnell for drawing my attention to this aspect of
Finnur’s scholarship. The ‘Icelandic Grimm’, Jón Árnason, published – with
Magnús Grímsson – Íslenzk Æfintýri in 1852, and his magnum opus Íslenzkar
þjóðsögur og æfintýri between 1862 and 1864.
119 See Schmidt, Briefwechsel der Gebrüder Grimm, xii.
120 These rota maps, which can be found in the archive of the Society of Antiquaries
of London, are analysed in Clunies Ross, ‘Images of Norse Cosmology’, 58.
121 Clunies Ross, ‘Images of Norse Cosmology’, 64.
122 Ibid., 63–4. Blackwell’s harsh comment on Finnur’s theories can be found in
Percy’s Northern Antiquities (3rd ed.), 506.
123 Helgason, ‘Finnur Magnússon’, 171–96.
124 An insightful exposition of this less aggressive brand of national identity is
Sigurður Melsteð’s ‘Um þjóðerni’ (‘On National Identity’). On the relationship
between politics and culture in Icelandic national identity, see Hálfdanarson,
Íslenska þjóðríkið, 33–9.
125 Helgason, ‘Finnur Magnússon’, 193–4.
126 For an overview of Finnur’s political career, see Kristjánsson, ‘Finnur Magnússon:
150. ártíð’.
127 Finnur Magnússon, in his news supplement to the Íslenzk sagnablöð, 56:
‘Íslendingar! Skylda vor og heiður krefja af oss dáð og dugnað, ef vér ekki
ætlumst til að kafna undir nafni og láta það spyrjast út um allan heim: að andagift
feðra vorra sé frá oss horfin, og allar tilraunir munu ónýtast er viðhalda eigi
bókmenntum og alþjóðlegum fróðleik á meðal vor’.
128 Hallgrímsson, ‘Ísland’, 21–2. See also Halink, ‘The Icelandic Mythscape’,
217–20.
129 This ideal confluence of former and future greatness is referred to as the ‘double
time of the nation’. See Bhabha, Nation and Narration.
130 Magnússon, Ubetydeligheder.
131 Finnur wrote three of these poems: two in 1845 and one in 1847. For an
overview of poems dedicated to Jón Sigurðsson – until 1877 – see Egilsson,
Arfur og umbylting, 284–5.
132 Faxaflói (‘Faxi Bay’): the bay on which Reykjavík is situated.
133 Ingólfr Arnarson, the first settler. ‘His town’ refers to Reykjavík.
134 Magnússon, ‘Fulltrúakveðja’ (1845), verse three and four (of four): ‘Við Faxa
saltan sæ/Setst það í Íngólfs bæ,/Fyrstum um Frón;/Þar hljómi þjóðar raust,/
Þarfsamleg, vitur, hraust,/Margt bæti, mjúk og traust,/Mannheilla tjón!//Alþíng
er endur rís,/Ágætan vinni prís/Um fagurt Frón!/Fulltrúa hlaut það hér/Hann
oss nú kveðja ber:/Farsælan, hvar sem fer,/Faðmi hann Jón!’ (bold lettering
original). For more on Finnur’s ideas on the new parliament, see: Kristjánsson,
‘Finnur Magnússon og endurreisn alþingis’.
135 This graecophile view was shared by Goethe. On the polemic between Finnur and
Baden, see Böldl, Der Mythos der Edda, 158–61.
136 The same also goes for national history: someone who is unfamiliar with Ingólfr
Arnarson, Iceland’s first settler, will have a hard time grasping that ‘Ingólfr’s
town’ is a poetic description of Reykjavík. See Finnur’s poem, discussed above.
137 Huizinga, Homo Ludens, 137–8.
138 See Leerssen, ‘Romanticism’.
139 Valsson, ‘En runologs uppgång’, 52: ‘inte kunde sätta gränser för sin fantasi.’
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Simon Halink is a PhD candidate at the University of Groningen (the Netherlands),

whose current research focuses on Old Norse mythology and Icelandic national identity
between 1820 and 1918. He has published articles on the role of landscape in Icelandic
identity formation, the image of Iceland in Nazi Germany, and on the role of Nordic
philology in national discourses. He is also affiliated with the Study Platform on
Interlocking Nationalisms (SPIN), based in Amsterdam, and with the international
research project Icelandic Philology and National Culture 1780–1918, based at the
Reykjavík Academy. Address: Fellsmúli 12, 108 Reykjavík, Iceland. [email: s.halink@rug.nl]

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Finnur Magnússon’s mythological studies and

Keywords Finnur Magnússon, Romanticism, philology, Old Norse mythology,

continued the German appropriation of Scandinavian culture by naming his anthology

grounds can it be characterized as Romantic?

‘Romantic to the core’

Finnur’s international network

Gräter’s works, initially in reaction to his critical evaluation of the Altdänische

A benchmark for national authenticity: the Poetic Edda

According to Finnur’s programmatic introduction, the ancient myths cannot simply be

adventurous expeditions to the east in order to be traced. In 1818, Finnur published a

The identification of Óðinn with the enlightened founder of Buddhism, suggested by

Finnur’s attempts to reconstruct the ancient Eurasian myth-tree, connecting pre-

F. S. Grundtvig, whose work can be considered exemplary of ‘the peculiar mixture of

It is certain that, in recent times, it has been attempted to demonstrate our

By memorizing the versified movements of the mythological characters between their

Jørgensen, known in Icelandic as Jörundur hundadagakonungur (‘dog-days king’), who

By the salty Faxi Bay132

Many a damage to favour!

8 Magnússon, Eddalæren og dens Oprindelse.

27 For an edition of the brothers’ correspondences with Nordic scholars, see

35 Skúladóttir and Schopka, ‘Landkönnuðurinn’.

67 Magnússon, Udsigt over den kaukasiske Menneskestammes ældste Hjemsted, 3–4:

90 Magnússon, Priscae veterum, 377–8.

103 For an overview of Müller’s mythological scholarship, see Chaudhuri, Friedrich

109 Magnússon, Eddalæren, vol. 1, 48.

Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 2006.

Mitchell, P. M. ‘Wilhelm Grimm’s Letters to Finnur Magnússon’. Journal of English and

Peter Springborg, 173–90. Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press, 2006.

Simon Halink is a PhD candidate at the University of Groningen (the Netherlands),

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