nherjes_, the brave warriors who died
in battle.

The hall is resplendent with gold; spears support its ceiling, it is
roofed with shields, and coats of mail adorn it. According to the Elder
Edda it has six hundred and forty doors, through which nine hundred and
sixty _einherjes_ may enter side by side. The Valkyries make it a
perfect paradise. As the servants of the divine host they bear the
drink, take care of the mead horns and wait upon the table. Here they
appear in the loveliness of their peaceful, housewifely mission. This
unwarlike side of their nature should be emphasized, for it is apt to be
forgotten when we think of Valkyries as spirits of the clouds flying
over land and sea, driven by the wind, messengers of the storm god,
shining in lightning, rattling in thunder.

Nowhere does the poetry inherent in the primitive Germanic conscience,
in spite of all its apparent, warlike savagery, appear in a brighter
light than in the many sagas relative to those superhuman, semi-divine
beings. Their conception sheds a brilliant light upon the soul life of
the primitive German as we consider it in connection with womanhood, and
especially with womanhood elevated to the level of the divine.

In one way might the Valkyries be brought into subjection to man. A hero
who surprised them bathing in the quiet forest lake obtained power over
them if he succeeded in carrying off their feather garments, for he thus
prevented them from flying away. In this respect the swan-maiden and the
Valkyries are identical. A swan-maiden thus surprised must then follow
the hero as his wife, until she perchance finds again her feather
garment, for this will permit her to fly away as a swan. One of the
loveliest passages in the _Nibelungenlied_ is the story where fierce
Hagen, the slayer of the sunny hero Siegfried, surprises the
prophetesses of the Danube by stealing their raiment, and thereby forces
them to reveal to him the future fate of himself and of the Burgundians
wandering to the court of the Hunnish king Attila, or Etzel:

"Spake one of the mere women Hadburg was her name:
Here will we tell you, Hagen, O noble knight of fame;
If you now, gallant swordsman, our raiment but restore,
Your journey to Hunland, and all that waits you more.

"Her words were glad to Hagen and made his spirits glad.
He gave them back their raiment. No sooner were they clad
In all their magic garments t