‘The Viking Heart,’ by Arthur Herman

In short, a clear thread may connect the Viking sokemen of the Danelaw to the intellectual ferment that produced the Petition of Right of the English Parliament in 1628 and, ultimately, the Bill of Rights in America.

There seems to be something essentially un-Scandinavian about blowing one’s own horn. One hears of – and is often amused by – the Irish braggart or the German braggart. But we rarely hear of Scandinavian braggarts. Not due to any ethnic superiority, but because of our ingrained cultural habits.

The makes Arthur Herman’s The Viking Heart a slightly awkward book to read, at least for fellow Scandinavians. (Herman explains that after he wrote the book, How the Scots Invented the Modern World, a Norwegian uncle asked why he’d ignored that side of the family, so there seem to be exceptions.)

I’d heard the author interviewed on the radio, and got the impression that this was mainly a book about the Vikings. But it’s not. Though the Vikings get much of the page count, the author goes on to describe Scandinavian history (at home and overseas) up to modern times. We read about the Normans, King Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden, the Swedish pioneers in colonial Delaware and New York, Charles Lindbergh and Norman Borlaug. The executives of both Ford and Chevrolet who engineered US industrial mobilization in World War II were both Scandinavian-Americans. Gutzon Borglum and Carl Sandberg. The list is quite long.

The ongoing theme is the titular Viking heart (sometimes also the Viking Legacy, a title already taken. Herman might have consulted that book profitably). The Viking heart seems to be a pretty amorphous concept, but in the end he identifies it as physical courage, commitment to cultural identity, “the instinct of craftsmanship” (a phrase from Thorstein Veblen, who grew up about 10 miles from my childhood home), Christianity (after the conversion, of course), “the Lutheran work ethic,” the power of individual freedom, and “a constant willingness to strive toward unknown frontiers in order to find a place for oneself and one’s family.”

I’m not sure how different that makes the Viking heart from a lot of other ethnic groups’ hearts – the Scots-Irish, for instance, could claim a lot of those traits, and they carried them off with more flair.

As always, when it comes to a subject about which I know quite a lot, I have nitpicks. There are a lot of minor errors in the chapters on the Vikings. The author doesn’t go as far as some historians in rejecting the evidence of the sagas, but he tends to find things credible that I doubt, and doubt things I consider pretty plausible (such as the existence of King Harald Finehair of Norway).

On the plus side, he is far more positive about Christianity and its cultural influences than many current historians.

He judges it a failing of the Scandinavian countries that they never fully adopted feudalism. That’s something we Norwegians have always been pretty proud of, in point of fact.

The book is quite long. I did learn things from it, when the story moved outside my wheelhouse. I appreciated it, but I’m not entirely sure the whole exercise was necessary.

That’s probably just my Norwegian diffidence talking.

Recommended, for those interested in the subject.

A Common Root Origin of Pray and Prey?

Ever notice that some words with diverse meanings sound alike? There are called homophones and are the source of countless confusions and misspeakery. The curious may ask if two homophones have a common origin, if perhaps a single word split in the distance past to give us the two words we have now.

Something of an example of a single word would be content. When we say CON-tent, emphasizing the front of half of the word, we mean the reading material, images, videos, or objects that fill up a website, magazine, or other media container. What’s in a thing is its content. When we say con-TENT, we mean to be at peace with a situation. “Having the desires limited to that which one has; not disposed to repine or grumble.” That’s the definition from Webster’s New International (2nd ed., many years old), adding this Spencer quotation: “Content with any food that God doth send.”

This word is not actually a homophone. It’s the same word with two meanings, both from one Latin word continere, meaning “to hold together, enclose” or to contain. The content of this blog is the substance contained therein, and to be content with something is to contain one’s desires within the bounds of that thing. Your umbrella may be bent and a bit shabby, but you’re content with it because you don’t want a new one yet.

My old Webster’s makes a good point contrasting content and satisfy. You may be settled or undisturbed by what you have, even though all of your desires have not been met or satisfied. “When I was at home, I was in a better place; but travelers must be content,” Shakespeare wrote in As You Like It. The speaker could easily want more or different, but today he’ll remain as he is–not satisfied but content.

But I was talking about homophones, such as pray and prey.

Pray came into English in the 13th century as preien, shown in this old Anglican prayer, “Almyghti god, euerlastynge, we preien thee grant us to slaken the flawme of oure vicis, that grauntidist to seynt laurence thi martir to ouercome the brynnyng of his turmentis. Bi crist.” The word came through French from the Latin precari, meaning “ask earnestly, beg, entreat.” You can hear a close relationship to the word precarious, which we often use to mean “uncertain” or “doubtful.” It actually means “dependent on someone else,” which is rather close to what the prayerful saint intends.

Prey in Middle English was preie, essentially the same spelling as the word intended as “pray.” Searching old prayer books, I see this spelling used repeatedly, such as this line from a tract by John Wyclif, “Christene men preie wiþout cessynge.” So, speaking as a layman, a novice, and a non-scholar (despite what they constantly told me in high school), perhaps both pray and prey were spelled the same in 13th century English.

But prey, a hunted animal, does not have the same root as pray. It comes from another French word (also preie) from the Latin praeda. These two words were used to mean “plunder and the spoils of conquest” as well as the rabbit in the falcon’s eye. And the verb form, to prey upon, is derived from the same Latin root.

Photo by Vincent van Zalinge on Unsplash

Viking Festival report

Since I’m sure you were praying fervently for my safety this weekend, considering my age and deteriorating mental state, you’ll rejoice to know that I and my loaner car both returned intact from an intensive experience.

First, at noon Friday, a lunch meeting with the board of the Georg Sverdrup Society at a restaurant in Fergus Falls, Minnesota. That went fine, except that I have lots of work to do now on delayed projects (delayed, surprisingly, by other causes than my personal laziness).

Then on eastward to the Brainerd area, where I met my hosts for the weekend. They were an extremely gracious retired couple who fed me sumptuously and listened to my tales and anecdotes. I, for my part, actually asked some questions of them, which is not my usual way. I must have been transitioning into Public Lars mode, which is more outgoing than my true personality.

In the morning my host guided me to the Crow Wing County Fairgrounds, where some of my group were already waiting. We set up, and other Vikings from other groups showed up and set up as well. In the end the Crow Wing Viking Festival looked like the photo above.

Things were slow starting off. I suspect the weather had a lot to do with it. It had been stormy overnight (everyone was grateful for the rain after a dry summer), and some clouds and sprinkling moved through before everything lightened up. It became a beautiful day – about 70 degrees – the only problem being strong wind gusts that bludgeoned us now and then (at one point one actually knocked the post out from one corner of my sun shade awning).

And the crowds came, as we hoped, as eager as the Vikings to finally get out and do something with people under God’s sun. The fighting contingent had enough participants to form reasonable shield walls in the battle shows, and – judging by my business – people were eager and willing to spend their rapidly devaluing dollars. I took home a nice amount that had previously been in other people’s pockets.

Then, because I had a young guy carrying my impedimenta in his big vehicle, we convoyed home, stopping for burgers in St. Cloud. I was the old man in the party, and did my best to appear clueless and opinionated. Pulled in at home a little after 10:00 p.m., and unloaded. Dragged my stuff inside, and collapsed to a better night’s sleep than I’d had in a while.

Oh yes, somebody asked for a picture of my Viking chest. I forgot to take one at the festival, but here it is in its customary spot, subbing for a desk chair in my home office.

Cuba in ‘1984’

A few weeks ago, I started reading 1984 as a change of pace from the Rubus novels I went through. That was when news from Cuba came out on Twitter, and Cubans had taken to the streets.

Our media, which allows claims of Cuba’s “entirely free” health care to go unchallenged, told us they were upset that COVID vaccines were in short supply. But everything has been in short supply. Farmland that could be cultivated with modern techniques is wasted by political bullies who must control everything even when there’s nothing left. Little abuelas are saying they have lived under communism for 60 years and they’re sick of it. The protests sprang up everywhere. Police have ushered hundreds of people off the streets, beating them for protesting or “disappearing” them. World reports some of the details here.

Communists blocked all or most of the country’s Internet access early on, prompting U.S. advocates to talk about deploying special Internet beacons like we did in Puerto Rico a few years ago. Doctors are now speaking up about the sorry condition of state-run hospitals. Health is not a particular care of the state.

This week, Cuba has made it illegal to complain online, so the video last month of a woman crying hysterically over her son bleeding to death under state-run care, wounds caused by police, would be a crime to record and share. Praising the all-knowing, ever-benevolent state is all that’s allowed.

With this going on, I found it difficult to read 1984. The parallels were too strong, the story too dark. It was akin to enduring my mother’s death in a hospital a couple years ago and later trying to watch a Korean TV drama set in a hospice care facility in which characters regularly pass away.

I made it through about 70-90 pages. I heard a professor (I think) say he thought the book felted dated, pulled out of history’s dustbin. I think it describes Cuba perfectly. A country at war with ideological enemies. History constantly rewritten to agree with present claims. Enthusiastic support of our dear leader is required from all. No one is interested in discussing the truth or exploring possibilities. No one wants personal risk or neighborly respect. The state speaks for the people, because the people have no voice of their own.

I don’t find that kind of fear entertaining or enlightening.

I wonder if Cuba has their own version of Newspeak.

Crow Wing Viking Festival 2021

Above is a locally produced video from Brainerd, Minnesota, promoting the Crow Wing Viking Festival this Saturday. I’ll be there, God willing, selling books (God also willing). I neither endorse nor critique this video. I just found it, and haven’t had time to review it. Still have to pack tonight.

Finished my intense translating job. Tomorrow, a meeting to attend, then on to Brainerd. They had a fun festival two years ago. Last year nothing happened, it goes without saying. This weekend, with typical Viking courage, we’re getting the (rover) band back together.

Information here. Nothing from me in this space tomorrow.

As usual, my house will not be empty while I’m gone. My renter will be here. He may or may not be on his meds.

Legal Docket from World Radio

World News Group has released the second season of its Legal Docket podcast with a compelling story of James King who was beaten up in 2014 by federal and state agents who assumed he was someone else.

The agents were unidentified in a black vehicle. According to King, they called him over as he was crossing the street and asked him about his wallet to see some ID. He says he thought they were going to mug him. He ran. They assaulted him, and when street cops arrived, he said, “Please God! Be real police.”

He says he would have complied with officers, had they identified themselves. The agents say they did. And they arrested him for resisting arrest.

King refused to plea bargain, which is a common tactic to avoid tying up the courts. I’m told defense lawyers have encouraged their clients to plea bargain, even though they believe in their clients’ innocence, because juries are unpredictable. King wouldn’t bargain. He wasn’t going to plead guilty to something he didn’t do, and the jury believed him.

King followed up by suing the FBI and the federal government for damages. His lawyers filed under a variety of laws, amendments, and legal rationale, which they said is standard procedure. That’s where the sticky legal issues come in. King’s suit has gone all the way to the Supreme Court, not due to the merits of his claims, but due to technical questions over his ability to sue law enforcement officers.

This isn’t the pressing news of the day, but it’s a good podcast and may take you away from the pressing news for an appropriate amount of time. All of World’s podcasts are well-produced and well-written. Not glitzy, melodramatic, or boring.

“I don’t know, I’ve never Wisted”

I’m happy and not happy to say I got some more translation work. I wanted the work because I need the money, but it also means I’ll have to prepare for this weekend (a meeting in Fergus Falls, then a Viking event in Brainerd) during whatever chinks of time I can find in between work sessions. It’s times like this when I feel kind of old.

Older than usual.

For your entertainment, I found a trailer for one of the previous projects I’ve worked on. “Wisting,” based on the book series by Jorn Lier Horst, one of whose books I listened to driving to Madison and back last weekend. This was one of the first projects I worked on (not much of my work actually survived the revisions), but I was taken with it, and found the books enjoyable. You can view it, as you’ll see, if you subscribe to Acorn TV. (Assuming they’re still running it)

Nitpick: In the books, Wisting has dark hair.

Back to work…

Let me just get this off my chest

Reading a long book, and I have a heavy translation project to fill my hours. So, nothing to review. About what shall I write today?

I don’t want to write about the state of the world. I’m not very happy about the state of the world, or the nation, or the state, or the community. I’m not all that happy about the state of my house, either. One of my sinks just clogged up.

At bedtime, I’ve been reading Jeremiah. Appropriate, in a tragic way. There’s Jeremiah, this young man who loves God, and what job does God give him? “Tell the people to repent or they’ll be punished. They won’t listen to you, but tell them anyway.”

“God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life.” The problem is, His idea of wonderful is different from ours. From mine, anyway.

If I didn’t have a strong impression (very likely wrong) that I have a Calling to finish my Erling saga before I die, I’d be strongly considering taking up an even more unhealthy lifestyle, just to avoid the disaster that seems inevitable now.

Anyway.

I did accomplish one thing. With my hands, for a change.

I built (with my brother’s extensive help) a Viking chest, some years back, for use in reenactments. The picture above (my chest is red with yellow decorations) isn’t a very good one, but it’s the best I can find in my collection. A Viking chest is wider at the bottom than at the top (prevents tipping) and the two end boards are longer than the rest, creating “feet” that keep the chest off the ground (or out of the bilge water). It’s a practical design. I used a lot of construction cheats to make it looked joined, though it’s actually all screwed together.

A while back one of the feet broke. It’s been breaking off again periodically, under stress, ever since. I’d been planning to fix it for some time, by running a couple long screws up inside the boards the long way.

Last week I drilled starter holes for the screws, but found that the holes were too short for the very long screws I’d found somewhere. I went to the hardware store for a longer drill bit, and the guy sold me one he swore was the right size. It was not. It was too wide; the screws barely bit.

So yesterday I unscrewed the screws (not very hard) and dumped some toothpicks into the holes, along with Elmer’s glue. Then I coated the screws with glue as well, and tightened it all down. Seems solid.

I needed some sense of accomplishment. Finishing my translation work will help with that too. Better get back to it.

Lagging indicator

William Magear “Boss” Tweed. Wikimedia Commons.

There should be a picture at the top of this post, showing me lecturing in my Victorian frock coat. But I didn’t think to have one taken. You’ll have to imagine it for yourself. This old photo of Boss Tweed should help.

The drive to Madison, Wisconsin runs between four and five hours, not counting gas and food breaks. That seems like a long drive to me in my old age, but I handled it. My chief concern was on-board entertainment, since the loaner I’m driving has no working stereo. I finally settled on buying an audio book from Amazon, and listening to it through earphones, on my Fire tablet. Worked OK, once I figured out how to start the reading at the beginning of the book. The Amazon people, like any good pushers, give you the first taste free, so I got a book I’d read already, Jørn Lier Horst’s Dregs. I’m glad I got a book I was familiar with, because sometimes one gets distracted (by Google Maps directions, for instance), and there’s no easy way to repeat text with your hands on the wheel. But all in all, a successful experiment.

As I mentioned last week, I’d been operating on the assumption that I was going to be lecturing on Saturday, then discovered it was really Friday. So I had to adjust my plans and rearrange my hotel reservation. That lost me any opening in the hotel where the meeting was, but I got a room just up the road. Within walking distance…. As if I was going to walk, with five cartons of books to carry, plus PowerPoint equipment.

The meeting was the Tre Lag Stevne, held every two years by a coalition of three Norwegian-American bygdelags. Bygdelags are associations of descendants from particular regions of Norway. Genealogy is one of their big activities. I’d spoken to them about Vikings, two years back in Alexandria, Minnesota.

This year the theme was the emigration period, including the Haugean evangelical movment. One of the organizers remembered that I came from Kenyon, Minnesota. He contacted me, saying he’d always been curious about the Old Stone Church, located between Kenyon and Faribault. Did I know anything about it? Indeed I did. The Old Stone Church (built around 1877) was the original building of my home congregation, Hauge Lutheran in Kenyon. On top of that, I grew up on a farm precisely 1.5 miles south of the old building. I had much to say on the subject, some of it pertinent.

Thus my lecture was outside of my usual wheelhouse, but I believe it went well. The audience was attentive, and they laughed in the right places. There were many questions afterward, and a lot of compliments. Book sales were good, but not spectacular as they were the last time I spoke to the three Lags. No real surprise there; you almost never do as well fishing the same waters a second time. But I made enough, along with my honorarium, to make a small profit on the trip – assuming I don’t price my time very high. Which I generally don’t.

On the way home, I had one very pleasant surprise. It’s my custom to eat at established franchise restaurants when traveling, purely out of timidity. I’ve had enough bad meals in small cafes to be leery of them – which, I imagine, has lost me as many good meals as bad ones over the years. But I pulled off the highway near Menomonie, thinking I’d find gas and a Culver’s at that exit. I got the gas, but it was the wrong exit for the Culvers’. So, being tired, I decided to take a chance on the café attached to the gas station. I wanted something resembling a genuine meal, not a burger and fries, so I gambled on the daily special, the fish dinner. I fully expected a couple of those sad, flat, freezer-dried planks of breaded fish you see so often in rural cafes.

Instead, what I found before me (after a wait, but you have to wait everywhere these days) was fish entirely indistinguishable from Culvers’ North Atlantic Cod. Which is high praise indeed. And the fries and cole slaw were better than Culvers, in my epicurean opinion.

I’ll give them a plug. The Exit 45 Restaurant. Tell ‘em I sent you, just to confuse them.

Then I drove home and collapsed.

This next weekend, a shorter trip, but more complicated and packing heavier. The Crow Wing Viking Festival, near Brainerd, Minnesota.

The Fact-Checker Has Been Checked

The co-founder of Snopes.com has been outed as plagiarist. David Mikkelson has been suspended from editing his own website, but I gather he has not been dismissed entirely, if that’s even possible since he owns half the company.

Buzzfeed News has the story today. A few years ago, a statement like that would have sounded like saying, “ClickHole reports this shocking bit of truth.” But Buzzfeed does real work now. Who would have thought?

The article quotes from a couple former Snopes staffers who say Mikkelson’s policy was to plagiarize first, rewrite into original wording later. “I remember explaining that we didn’t need to ‘rewrite’ because we’d always done this stuff quickly,” Kim LaCapria said, “He just didn’t seem to understand that some people didn’t plagiarize.”

Have you put much or any stock in Snopes recently? I haven’t looked at it for a long while, having become disenchanted with it after reading a couple articles that weren’t fact-checking at all. But most of my fact-checking for the last few years has been etymological.

In the spirit of transparency, I got distracted while writing this post by my need for a good turnip greens recipe. I thought you should know.