In the Northern religion, too, therefore, we have the same leading ideas which we have signalized in the Indian or Grecian systems. Especially does that notion of the breath of the body, or the smoke of the funeral pyre representing the soul of the hero and carried upward under care of the wind, come prominently forward. This might be expected because, it will be remembered, the wind in the Northern mythology is not, as with the Indians, a servant of Yama only, or as with the Greeks a lesser divinity, but is the first of all the gods. To Odin is assigned the task of collecting the souls of heroes who had fallen in battle; and there are few myths more poetical than that which pictures him riding to battle-fields to execute his mission. He is accompanied by his Valkyriur, ‘the choosers,’ a sort of Amazonian houris, half human, half-godlike, who ride through the air in the form of swans; wherefore they—who are originally, perhaps, the clouds—are often called in the Eddas, Odin’s swan-maidens. It has been said that this myth lived on in after-ages in the form of the Phantom Army and Herne the Hunter: and the essential part of it, the myth of the soul carried away by the wind, lived on more obscurely in a hundred other tales, some of which we may glance at in our next chapter upon Mythology. But while this idea of the mounting soul is often clearly expressed—as, for instance, where in Beowulf,[108] in the last scene, the hero is burnt by the seashore, it is said of him that he wand to wolcum, ‘curled to the clouds,’ imaging well the curling smoke of the pyre—there still lingered on other ideas of the death-home, a subterraneous land (Helheim, Hel’s home) ruled over by the goddess Hel,[109] and an infernal Styx-like stream, with the bridge of Indian mythology transferred to the lower world. And so much were the three distinct ideas interwoven, that in the myth of Balder each one may be traced. For here the sun-god, who is the very origin and prototype of the two more exalted elements of the creed of the heavenward journey,[110] has himself to stoop downward to the gates of Hel. If this legend sanctified for the heathens the practice of fire-burial, they had certainly so much excuse for their obstinate adherence to the older custom, as one of the most beautiful myths ever told might plead for them. We may look upon the story of the death and burning of Balder in two aspects—first as an image of the setting sun, next as an expression of men’s thoughts concerning death, and the course of the soul to its future home. If in this latter respect the story seems to mix up two different myths concerning the other world, we need not be surprised at that.
Balder dies, as the sun dies each day, and as the summer dies into winter. He falls, struck by a dart from the hand of his blind brother Hödr (the darkness), and the shadow of death appears for the first time in the homes of Asgard. At first the gods knew not what to make of it, ‘they were struck dumb with horror,’ says the Edda;[111] but seeing that he is really dead, they prepare his funeral pyre. They took his ship Hringhorni (Ringhorn, the disk of the sun), and on it set a pile of wood, with Balder’s horse and his armour, and all that he valued most, to which each god added some worthy gift. And when Nanna, the wife of Balder, saw the preparations, her heart broke with grief, and she too was laid upon the pile. Then they set fire to the ship, which sailed out burning into the sea.
But Balder himself had to go to Helheim, the dark abode beneath the earth, where reigns Hel,[112] the goddess of the dead. Then Odin sends his messenger, Hermödr, to the goddess, to pray her to let Balder return once more to earth. For nine days and nine nights Hermödr rode through dark glens, so dark that he could not discern anything until he came to the river Gjöll (‘the sounding’—notice that here the Greek Cocytus reappears), over which he rode by Gjöll’s bridge, which was pleasant with bright gold. A maiden sat there keeping the bridge; she inquired of him his name and lineage—for, said she, ‘Yestereve five bands of dead men rid over the bridge, yet they did not shake it so much as thou hast done. But thou hast not death’s hue upon thee; why, then, ridest thou here on the way to Hel?’
‘I ride to Hel,’ answered Hermödr, ‘to seek Balder. Hast thou perchance seen him pass this way?’
‘Balder,’ answered she, ‘hath ridden over Gjöll’s bridge. But yonder, northward, lies the road to Hel.’
Hermödr then rode into the palace, where he found his brother Balder filling the highest place in the hall, and in his company he passed the night. The next morning he besought Hel, that she would let Balder ride home with him, assuring her how great the grief was among the gods.
Hel answered, ‘It shall now be proved whether Balder be so much loved as thou sayest. If, therefore, all things both living and lifeless weep for him, then shall he return. But if one thing speak against him or refuse to weep, he shall be kept in Helheim.’
And when Hermödr had delivered this answer, the gods sent off messengers throughout the whole world, to tell everything to weep, in order that Balder might be delivered out of Helheim. All things freely complied with this request, both man and every other living thing, and earths, and stones, and trees, and metals, just as thou hast no doubt seen these things weep when they are brought from a cold place into a hot one. As the messengers were returning, and deemed that their mission had been successful, they found an old hag, named Thokk,[113] sitting in a cavern, and her they begged to weep Balder out of Helheim. But she said:—
| ‘Thokk will wail | Nought quick or dead |
| With dry eyes | For carl’s son care I. |
| Balder’s bale-fire. | Let Hel hold her own.’ |
So Balder remained in Helheim.