Lyfing
06-28-2009, 08:34 PM
Some Controversial Aspects of the Myth of Baldr..
Most students of Scandinavian mythology have ambitions similar to those of Detter, but after two centuries of research they are so far from the desired solution that walking round the mountain of pre- vious scholarship appears to hold out greater promise than adding another stone to it. John Lindow, the author of the most recent book on Baldr, says the following: “My own interest, at least in the present work, has nothing to do with Germanic culture or Germanic religion . . . but rather with the myth in the forms in which we have it and the meaning it might have borne for those who knew it in those forms” ( 1997, 28). It is not obvious that the most important part of the colossal Baldr wedge is its visible thin edge. Unlike Lindow, I am interested in both the genesis of the myth and its function.
All, rather than some, aspects of the Baldr myth are controversial, but I will address only those central to it, whence the title of my paper. Our view of the development of this myth has been seriously obscured by recourse to comparative religion and the ever-growing indifference to internal reconstruction. The broader the background of a myth, the more similarities present themselves, and the path is lost in the wilderness. Frazer’s, F. R. Schröder’s, and Dumézil’s works are especially characteristic in this respect; Kauffmann and Neckel belong to the same group of scholars. One or two examples will suffice. The burning of the ring Draupnir on Baldr’s funeral pyre has an analog in Ossetian epic poetry ( Dumézil 1964, 67–68). Since this observation leads nowhere, it matters little whether we register it or not. Likewise, F. R. Schröder (1941, 8–11) notes that in Slavic fertility cults a barefooted girl was disguised as Iarilo, an event reminiscent of Skaði’s wooing. But does it follow that Skaði, who hoped to marry Baldr but got Njorðr, is a character in a ritual drama on the themes of fertility? Schröder does not say so. What then is the point of his digression? Neckel’s comparison of Baldr with Tammuz, Adonis, and Attis is also of limited importance ( 1920). Baldr emerges as part of a sizable group of dying gods, but his death needs no proof from other religions, while our understanding of the origin of the Scandinavian myth is not advanced by this comparison, for despite Neckel’s analysis there is no certainty that the story of Baldr reached northern Europe from the East: perhaps we are dealing with a typological parallel. The repertoire of motifs in Eurasian mythology is not too extensive, and the structure of many myths is the same everywhere from Iceland to Ancient Egypt and Babylonia. It may therefore be useful to stay at home and find out what we really know about Baldr, what we can reconstruct with authority, and what riddles only Óðinn can solve.
Later,
-Lyfing
Most students of Scandinavian mythology have ambitions similar to those of Detter, but after two centuries of research they are so far from the desired solution that walking round the mountain of pre- vious scholarship appears to hold out greater promise than adding another stone to it. John Lindow, the author of the most recent book on Baldr, says the following: “My own interest, at least in the present work, has nothing to do with Germanic culture or Germanic religion . . . but rather with the myth in the forms in which we have it and the meaning it might have borne for those who knew it in those forms” ( 1997, 28). It is not obvious that the most important part of the colossal Baldr wedge is its visible thin edge. Unlike Lindow, I am interested in both the genesis of the myth and its function.
All, rather than some, aspects of the Baldr myth are controversial, but I will address only those central to it, whence the title of my paper. Our view of the development of this myth has been seriously obscured by recourse to comparative religion and the ever-growing indifference to internal reconstruction. The broader the background of a myth, the more similarities present themselves, and the path is lost in the wilderness. Frazer’s, F. R. Schröder’s, and Dumézil’s works are especially characteristic in this respect; Kauffmann and Neckel belong to the same group of scholars. One or two examples will suffice. The burning of the ring Draupnir on Baldr’s funeral pyre has an analog in Ossetian epic poetry ( Dumézil 1964, 67–68). Since this observation leads nowhere, it matters little whether we register it or not. Likewise, F. R. Schröder (1941, 8–11) notes that in Slavic fertility cults a barefooted girl was disguised as Iarilo, an event reminiscent of Skaði’s wooing. But does it follow that Skaði, who hoped to marry Baldr but got Njorðr, is a character in a ritual drama on the themes of fertility? Schröder does not say so. What then is the point of his digression? Neckel’s comparison of Baldr with Tammuz, Adonis, and Attis is also of limited importance ( 1920). Baldr emerges as part of a sizable group of dying gods, but his death needs no proof from other religions, while our understanding of the origin of the Scandinavian myth is not advanced by this comparison, for despite Neckel’s analysis there is no certainty that the story of Baldr reached northern Europe from the East: perhaps we are dealing with a typological parallel. The repertoire of motifs in Eurasian mythology is not too extensive, and the structure of many myths is the same everywhere from Iceland to Ancient Egypt and Babylonia. It may therefore be useful to stay at home and find out what we really know about Baldr, what we can reconstruct with authority, and what riddles only Óðinn can solve.
Later,
-Lyfing