{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_33260/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_33260","id":"gutenberg_33260","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/33260","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Archaeology & Anthropology","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Folklore","Manners and customs","Mythology","Religion"],"text":"Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Sam W. and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Note\n\nTransliterated Greek has been marked with tildes, e.g. ~Kronos~.\n\nA few words contained the letter a with a macron (straight line) above\nit. They instead have a circumflex in this version of the e-book\n(Krana and abib).\n\n\n\n\n         CUSTOM AND MYTH\n\n\n               BY\n\n        ANDREW LANG, M.A.\n   HON. FELLOW OF MERTON COLLEGE\n            OXFORD\n\n\n          _NEW EDITION_\n\n\n             LONDON\n     LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.\n              1893\n\n\n      _All rights reserved_\n\n\n\n\n                  TO\n              E. B. TYLOR\n     AUTHOR OF 'PRIMITIVE CULTURE'\n  THESE STUDIES OF THE OLDEST STORIES\n             Are Dedicated\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nSince the first publication of _Custom and Myth_, many other works\nhave appeared, dealing on the same principles with matters of belief,\nfable and ritual. Were the book to be re-written, numerous fresh\npieces of evidence might be adduced in support of its conclusions. In\nMr. Frazer's _Golden Bough_ (Macmillan) the student will find a\ncarefully conceived argument, and a large collection of testimonies,\nbearing on the wide diffusion, among savages and civilised peoples, of\nancient rites and ancient ideas. The works of Mannhardt have\npractically been introduced to the English reader by Mr. Frazer, with\nmuch new matter of his own. The main topics are the worship of human\ngods and the superstitions connected with vegetation. To push a theory\ntoo far is the common temptation of mythologists, and perhaps Mr.\nFrazer's cornstalk does rather threaten to overshadow the whole earth\nand exclude the light of sun and sky. But the reader, whatever his\nopinions, will find great pleasure and profit in Mr. Frazer's\nremarkable studies, and in those of Mannhardt, which were unknown to\nmyself when I wrote _Custom and Myth_.\n\nIn Miss Harrison's volume on Athenian Myths the student will find the\naetiological theory (namely, that many myths were invented to explain\nobscure points of ritual) applied in a number of classical instances.\nA singularly ingenious study of Roman myths is presented in Mr.\nJevons's edition of Plutarch's _Romaine Questions_ (Nutt). These are\nrecent instances of the use of the 'anthropological' method, first\nfirmly established by Mr. Tylor's _Primitive Culture_, and now holding\nits own as a recognised instrument in the study of the historical\ndevelopment of the imagination. In Rosscher's _Ausfuehrliches Lexikon_\nof Greek and Roman mythology, the earlier method of the philologists\nis usually adopted, and the work, still in course of publication, is\nmost useful for its recondite learning.\n\nThese notes are meant for the guidance of any reader who may care to\npush his studies further than the sketches of the present volume.\n\nOn one or two points some remarks may be necessary. The author has\nbeen not unnaturally accused of seeing Totems everywhere. He would\ntherefore protest that he does not regard every beast and bird which\nappears in myths or in religious art as necessarily a Totem. But he\ninclines to think that where Celts or Greeks claim descent from a god\nwho pursued his amours in animal shape, or where a tribe bears the\nname of an animal, regards that animal with religious respect, and\nplaces its effigy beside that of a god, the Totemistic hypothesis\ncolligates the phenomena, and deserves consideration. These and other\nearly features of religion occur mainly in Greece after the Homeric\nage. It has been suggested, for example, by Mr. Walter Leaf, that\nHomer's people, the Achaeans, were free from all such ideas as\nTotemism, worship of the dead, ritual of purification for homicide,\nthe mysteries, and so forth. These were notions held by the Pelasgi,\nand revived or retained by the Ionians, an older and distinct stock of\nPelasgian origin. I am unable to convince myself in this matter, not\nknowing how much of the refinement in the Homeric poems is due to the\ngenius of the poet, who might ignore practices with which he was\nfamiliar. They may have been Pelasgo-Ionians, who derived Helen's\nbirth from the Swan, or Homer may have chosen to slur over an Achaean\nlegend, and so on in other cases; for example, as to the descent of\nthe Myrmidons from Zeus in the shape of an Ant. On another point a\nword may be said. One has been accused of believing that identical\npopular tales, the same incident in the same sequence of plot, might\narise simultaneously in savage imaginations in all parts of the world.\nIn _Custom and Myth_ it will be plain that I say nothing of the sort.\n'The Far-Travelled Tale' is one instance chosen to show that such a\nstory must probably have drifted, somehow, round the world. On the\nother hand, in 'Cupid and Psyche,' it is asserted that _the central\nincident_ might be invented wherever the nuptial taboo on which it is\nbased was recognised. The exact sequence of incidents in the 'Cupid\nand Psyche' of Apuleius, on the other hand, could probably only be\ninvented once for all. But we find the central incident where we do\nnot find the sequence of incidents which make up 'Cupid and Psyche.' A\nfull statement of my ideas is prefixed to Miss Roalfe Cox's\n_Cinderella_ (Folklore Society). As a rule, the incidents in _Maerchen_\nare common to all races; an artistic combination of many of these in a\nplot must probably be due to a single imagination, and the plot must\nhave been diffused in the ways described in _Custom and Myth_.\nIndependently evolved myths may closely resemble each other when they\naccount for some natural phenomenon, or are based on some common\ncustom. Wherever a sequence of such incidents is found in a distinct\nand artistic plot, we may provisionally assign diffusion from an\noriginal centre as that cause. Singular as are the coincidences of\nfancy, it is unlikely that they ever produced _exactly_ the same tale\nin lands which have never been in communication with each other. I am\nunable to conjecture why Mr. Jacobs, M. Cosquin, and probably other\ncritics, regard me as maintaining that all similar tales in all\ncountries have been independently evolved. I have always allowed for\nthe possibility both of diffusion and, to a certain extent, of\ncoincidence, as in the Red Indian forms of 'Cupid and Psyche' and of\n'The Dead Bride,' a shape of the story of Eurydice. Discussion would\nbe simpler, if controversialists took the trouble to understand each\nother.\n\nIn the Report of the Folklore Congress of 1891 (p. 65) I find that I\nsaid 'the suggestion that exactly the same plot, in exactly the same\nshape, and with exactly the same incidents, can have been invented by\nseveral persons independently, seems to me inconceivable,' and on p.\n74 I find M. Cosquin alleging that my opinion is the very reverse,\nfollowed by Mr. Jacobs (p. 85). I have tried to explain that I believe\nin no such exact coincidences of imagination, though how far precisely\ncoincidence may go is a delicate question.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n                                              PAGE\n\n    INTRODUCTION                                 1\n\n    THE METHOD OF FOLKLORE                      10\n\n    THE BULL-ROARER                             29\n\n    THE MYTH OF CRONUS                          45\n\n    CUPID, PSYCHE, AND THE 'SUN-FROG'           64\n\n    A FAR-TRAVELLED TALE                        87\n\n    APOLLO AND THE MOUSE                       103\n\n    STAR MYTHS                                 121\n\n    MOLY AND MANDRAGORA                        143\n\n    THE 'KALEVALA'                             156\n\n    THE DIVINING ROD                           180\n\n    HOTTENTOT MYTHOLOGY                        197\n\n    FETICHISM AND THE INFINITE                 212\n\n    THE EARLY HISTORY OF THE FAMILY            245\n\n    THE ART OF SAVAGES                         276\n\n    INDEX                                      305\n\n\n\n\nCUSTOM AND MYTH.\n\n\n\n\n_INTRODUCTION._\n\n\nThough some of the essays in this volume have appeared in various\nserials, the majority of them were written expressly for their present\npurpose, and they are now arranged in a designed order. During some\nyears of study of Greek, Indian, and savage mythologies, I have become\nmore and more impressed with a sense of the inadequacy of the\nprevalent method of comparative mythology. That method is based on the\nbelief that myths are the result of a disease of language, as the\npearl is the result of a disease of the oyster. It is argued that men\nat some period, or periods, spoke in a singular style of coloured and\nconcrete language, and that their children retained the phrases of\nthis language after losing hold of the original meaning. The\nconsequence was the growth of myths about supposed persons, whose\nnames had originally been mere 'appellations.' In conformity with this\nhypothesis the method of comparative mythology examines the proper\nnames which occur in myths. The notion is that these names contain a\nkey to the meaning of the story, and that, in fact, of the story the\nnames are the germs and the oldest surviving part.\n\nThe objections to this method are so numerous that it is difficult to\nstate them briefly. The attempt, however, must be made. To desert the\npath opened by the most eminent scholars is in itself presumptuous;\nthe least that an innovator can do is to give his reasons for\nadvancing in a novel direction. If this were a question of scholarship\nmerely, it would be simply foolhardy to differ from men like Max\nMueller, Adalbert Kuhn, Breal, and many others. But a revolutionary\nmythologist is encouraged by finding that these scholars frequently\ndiffer from each other. Examples will be found chiefly in the essays\nstyled 'The Myth of Cronus,' 'A Far-Travelled Tale,' and 'Cupid and\nPsyche.' Why, then, do distinguished scholars and mythologists reach\nsuch different goals? Clearly because their method is so precarious.\nThey all analyse the names in myths;[1] but, where one scholar decides\nthat the name is originally Sanskrit, another holds that it is purely\nGreek, and a third, perhaps, is all for an Accadian etymology, or a\nSemitic derivation. Again, even when scholars agree as to the original\nroot from which a name springs, they differ as much as ever as to the\nmeaning of the name in its present place. The inference is that the\nanalysis of names, on which the whole edifice of philological\n'comparative mythology' rests, is a foundation of shifting sand. The\nmethod is called 'orthodox,' but, among those who practise it, there\nis none of the beautiful unanimity of orthodoxy.\n\nThese objections are not made by the unscholarly anthropologist alone.\nCurtius has especially remarked the difficulties which beset the\n'etymological operations' in the case of proper names. 'Peculiarly\ndubious and perilous is mythological etymology. Are we to look for the\nsources of the divine names in aspects of nature, or in moral\nconceptions; in special Greek geographical conditions, or in natural\ncircumstances which are everywhere the same: in dawn with her rays, or\nin clouds with their floods; are we to seek the origin of the names of\nheroes in things historical and human, or in physical phenomena?'[2]\nProfessor Tiele, of Leyden, says much the same thing: 'The\nuncertainties are great, and there is a constant risk of taking mere\n_jeux d'esprit_ for scientific results.'[3] Every name has, if we can\ndiscover or conjecture it, a meaning. That meaning--be it 'large' or\n'small,' 'loud' or 'bright,' 'wise' or 'dark,' 'swift' or 'slow'--is\nalways capable of being explained as an epithet of the sun, or the\ncloud, or of both. Whatever, then, a name may signify, some scholars\nwill find that it originally denoted the cloud, if they belong to one\nschool, or the sun or dawn, if they belong to another faction.\nObviously this process is a mere _jeu d'esprit_. This logic would be\nadmitted in no other science, and, by similar arguments, any name\nwhatever might be shown to be appropriate to a solar hero.\n\nThe scholarly method has now been applied for many years, and what are\nthe results? The ideas attained by the method have been so popularised\nthat they are actually made to enter into the education of children,\nand are published in primers and catechisms of mythology. But what has\na discreet scholar to say to the whole business? 'The difficult task\nof interpreting mythical names has, so far, produced few certain\nresults'--so writes Otto Schrader.[4] Though Schrader still has hopes\nof better things, it is admitted that the present results are highly\ndisputable. In England, where one set of these results has become an\narticle of faith, readers chiefly accept the opinions of a single\netymological school, and thus escape the difficulty of making up their\nminds when scholars differ. But differ scholars do, so widely and so\noften, that scarcely any solid advantages have been gained in\nmythology from the philological method.\n\nThe method of philological mythology is thus discredited by the\ndisputes of its adherents. The system may be called orthodox, but it\nis an orthodoxy which alters with every new scholar who enters the\nsacred enclosure. Even were there more harmony, the analysis of names\ncould throw little light on myths. In stories the names may well be,\nand often demonstrably are, the latest, not the original, feature.\nTales, at first told of 'Somebody,' get new names attached to them,\nand obtain a new local habitation, wherever they wander. 'One of the\nleading personages to be met in the traditions of the world is really\nno more than--Somebody. There is nothing this wondrous creature cannot\nachieve; one only restriction binds him at all--that the name he\nassumes shall have some sort of congruity with the office he\nundertakes, _and even from this he oftentimes breaks loose_.'[5] We\nmay be pretty sure that the adventures of Jason, Perseus, Oedipous,\nwere originally told only of 'Somebody.' The names are later\nadditions, and vary in various lands. A glance at the essay on 'Cupid\nand Psyche' will show that a history like theirs is known, where\nneither they nor their counterparts in the Veda, Urvasi and Pururavas\nwere ever heard of; while the incidents of the Jason legend are\nfamiliar where no Greek word was ever spoken. Finally, the names in\ncommon use among savages are usually derived from natural phenomena,\noften from clouds, sky, sun, dawn. If, then, a name in a myth can be\nproved to mean cloud, sky, sun, or what not (and usually one set of\nscholars find clouds where others see the dawn), we must not instantly\ninfer that the myth is a nature-myth. Though, doubtless, the heroes in\nit were never real people, the names are as much common names of real\npeople in the savage state, as Smith and Brown are names of civilised\nmen.\n\nFor all these reasons, but chiefly because of the fact that stories\nare usually anonymous at first, that names are added later, and that\nstories naturally crystallise round any famous name, heroic, divine,\nor human, the process of analysis of names is most precarious and\nuntrustworthy. A story is told of Zeus: Zeus means sky, and the story\nis interpreted by scholars as a sky myth. The modern interpreter\nforgets, first, that to the myth-maker sky did not at all mean the\nsame thing as it means to him. Sky meant, not an airy, infinite,\nradiant vault, but a person, and, most likely, a savage person.\nSecondly, the interpreter forgets that the tale (say the tale of Zeus,\nDemeter, and the mutilated Ram) may have been originally anonymous,\nand only later attributed to Zeus, as unclaimed jests are attributed\nto Sheridan or Talleyrand. Consequently no heavenly phenomena will be\nthe basis and explanation of the story. If one thing in mythology be\ncertain, it is that myths are always changing masters, that the old\ntales are always being told with new names. Where, for example, is the\nvalue of a philological analysis of the name of Jason? As will be seen\nin the essay 'A Far-Travelled Tale,' the analysis of the name of Jason\nis fanciful, precarious, disputed, while the essence of his myth is\ncurrent in Samoa, Finland, North America, Madagascar, and other lands,\nwhere the name was never heard, and where the characters in the story\nhave other names or are anonymous.\n\nFor these reasons, and others too many to be adduced here, I have\nventured to differ from the current opinion that myths must be\ninterpreted chiefly by philological analysis of names. The system\nadopted here is explained in the first essay, called 'The Method of\nFolklore.' The name, Folklore, is not a good one, but 'comparative\nmythology' is usually claimed exclusively by the philological\ninterpreters.\n\nThe second essay, 'The Bull-Roarer,' is intended to show that certain\npeculiarities in the Greek mysteries occur also in the mysteries of\nsavages, and that on Greek soil they are survivals of savagery.\n\n'The Myth of Cronus' tries to prove that the first part of the legend\nis a savage nature-myth, surviving in Greek religion, while the sequel\nis a set of ideas common to savages.\n\n'Cupid and Psyche' traces another Aryan myth among savage races, and\nattempts to show that the central incident of the tale may have had\nits origin in a rule of barbarous etiquette.\n\n'A Far-Travelled Tale' examines a part of the Jason myth. This myth\nappears neither to be an explanation of natural phenomena (like part\nof 'The Myth of Cronus'), nor based on a widespread custom (like\n'Cupid and Psyche'). The question is asked whether the story may have\nbeen diffused by slow filtration from race to race all over the globe,\nas there seems no reason why it should have been invented separately\n(as a myth explanatory of natural phenomena or of customs might be) in\nmany different places.\n\n'Apollo and the Mouse' suggests hypothetically, as a possible\nexplanation of the tie between the God and the Beast, that\nApollo-worship superseded, but did not eradicate, Totemism. The\nsuggestion is little more than a conjecture.\n\n'Star Myths' points out that Greek myths of stars are a survival from\nthe savage stage of fancy in which such stories are natural.\n\n'Moly and Mandragora' is a study of the Greek, the modern, and the\nHottentot folklore of magical herbs, with a criticism of a scholarly\nand philological hypothesis, according to which Moly is the dog-star\nand Circe the moon.\n\n'The Kalevala' is an account of the Finnish national poem; of all\npoems that in which the popular, as opposed to the artistic, spirit is\nstrongest. The Kalevala is thus a link between _Maerchen_ and\n_Volkslieder_ on one side, and epic poetry on the other.\n\n'The Divining Rod' is a study of a European and civilised\nsuperstition, which is singular in its comparative lack of copious\nsavage analogues.\n\n'Hottentot Mythology' is a criticism of the philological method,\napplied to savage myth.\n\n'Fetichism and the Infinite' is a review of Mr. Max Mueller's theory\nthat a sense of the Infinite is the germ of religion, and that\nFetichism is secondary, and a corruption. This essay also contains a\ndefence of the _evidence_ on which the anthropological method relies.\n\nThe remaining essays are studies of the 'History of the Family,' and\nof 'Savage Art.'\n\nThe essay on 'Savage Art' is reprinted, by the kind permission of\nMessrs. Cassell & Co., from two numbers (April and May, 1882) of the\n_Magazine of Art_. I have to thank the editors and publishers of the\n_Contemporary Review_, the _Cornhill Magazine_, _Fraser's Magazine_,\nand _Mind_, for leave to republish 'The Early History of the Family,'\n'The Divining Rod,' and 'Star Myths,' 'The Kalevala,' and 'Fetichism.'\nA few sentences in 'The Bull-Roarer,' and 'Hottentot Mythology,'\nappeared in essays in the _Saturday Review_, and some lines of 'The\nMethod of Folklore' in the _Guardian_. To the editors of those\njournals also I owe thanks for their courteous permission to make this\nuse of my old articles.\n\nI must apologise for the controversial matter in the volume.\nControversy is always a thing to be avoided, but, in this particular\ncase, when a system opposed to the prevalent method has to be\nadvocated, controversy is unavoidable. My respect for the learning of\nmy distinguished adversaries is none the less great because I am not\nconvinced by their logic, and because my doubts are excited by their\ndifferences.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] Some of the names in Greek myths are Greek, and intelligible. A\nfew others (such as Zeus) can be interpreted by aid of Sanskrit. But\neven when the meaning of the name is known, we are little advanced in\ninterpretation of the myth.\n\n[2] Compare De Cara: _Essame Critico_.\n\n[3] _Revue de l'Hist. des Rel._, ii. 136.\n\n[4] _Sprachvergleichung und Urgeschichte_, p. 431.\n\n[5] _Prim. Cult._, i. 394.\n\n\n\n\n_THE METHOD OF FOLKLORE._\n\n\nAfter the heavy rain of a thunderstorm has washed the soil, it\nsometimes happens that a child, or a rustic, finds a wedge-shaped\npiece of metal or a few triangular flints in a field or near a road.\nThere was no such piece of metal, there were no such flints, lying\nthere yesterday, and the finder is puzzled about the origin of the\nobjects on which he has lighted. He carries them home, and the village\nwisdom determines that the wedge-shaped piece of metal is a\n'thunder-bolt,' or that the bits of flint are 'elf-shots,' the heads\nof fairy arrows. Such things are still treasured in remote nooks of\nEngland, and the 'thunder-bolt' is applied to cure certain maladies by\nits touch.\n\nAs for the fairy arrows, we know that even in ancient Etruria they\nwere looked on as magical, for we sometimes see their points set, as\namulets, in the gold of Etruscan necklaces. In Perugia the arrow-heads\nare still sold as charms. All educated people, of course, have long\nbeen aware that the metal wedge is a celt, or ancient bronze axe-head,\nand that it was not fairies, but the forgotten peoples of this island,\nwho used the arrows with the tips of flint. Thunder is only so far\nconnected with them that the heavy rains loosen the surface soil, and\nlay bare its long-hidden secrets.\n\nThere is a science, Archaeology, which collects and compares the\nmaterial relics of old races, the axes and arrow-heads. There is a\nform of study, Folklore, which collects and compares the similar but\nimmaterial relics of old races, the surviving superstitions and\nstories, the ideas which are in our time but not of it. Properly\nspeaking, folklore is only concerned with the legends, customs,\nbeliefs, of the Folk, of the people, of the classes which have least\nbeen altered by education, which have shared least in progress. But\nthe student of folklore soon finds that these unprogressive classes\nretain many of the beliefs and ways of savages, just as the Hebridean\npeople used spindle-whorls of stone, and bake clay pots without the\naid of the wheel, like modern South Sea Islanders, or like their own\nprehistoric ancestors.[6] The student of folklore is thus led to\nexamine the usages, myths, and ideas of savages, which are still\nretained, in rude enough shape, by the European peasantry. Lastly, he\nobserves that a few similar customs and ideas survive in the most\nconservative elements of the life of educated peoples, in ritual,\nceremonial, and religious traditions and myths. Though such remains\nare rare in England, we may note the custom of leading the dead\nsoldier's horse behind his master to the grave, a relic of days when\nthe horse would have been sacrificed.[7] We may observe the\npersistence of the ceremony by which the monarch, at his coronation,\ntakes his seat on the sacred stone of Scone, probably an ancient\nfetich stone. Not to speak, here, of our own religious traditions, the\nold vein of savage rite and belief is found very near the surface of\nancient Greek religion. It wants but some stress of circumstance,\nsomething answering to the storm shower that reveals the flint\narrow-heads, to bring savage ritual to the surface of classical\nreligion. In sore need, a human victim was only too likely to be\ndemanded; while a feast-day, or a mystery, set the Greeks dancing\nserpent-dances or bear-dances like Red Indians, or swimming with\nsacred pigs, or leaping about in imitation of wolves, or holding a\ndog-feast, and offering dog's flesh to the gods.[8] Thus the student\nof folklore soon finds that he must enlarge his field, and examine,\nnot only popular European story and practice, but savage ways and\nideas, and the myths and usages of the educated classes in civilised\nraces. In this extended sense the term 'folklore' will frequently be\nused in the following essays. The idea of the writer is that mythology\ncannot fruitfully be studied apart from folklore, while some knowledge\nof anthropology is required in both sciences.\n\nThe science of Folklore, if we may call it a science, finds\neverywhere, close to the surface of civilised life, the remains of\nideas as old as the stone elf-shots, older than the celt of bronze. In\nproverbs and riddles, and nursery tales and superstitions, we detect\nthe relics of a stage of thought, which is dying out in Europe, but\nwhich still exists in many parts of the world. Now, just as the flint\narrow-heads are scattered everywhere, in all the continents and isles,\nand everywhere are much alike, and bear no very definite marks of the\nspecial influence of race, so it is with the habits and legends\ninvestigated by the student of folklore. The stone arrow-head buried\nin a Scottish cairn is like those which were interred with Algonquin\nchiefs. The flints found in Egyptian soil, or beside the tumulus on\nthe plain of Marathon, nearly resemble the stones which tip the reed\narrow of the modern Samoyed. Perhaps only a skilled experience could\ndiscern, in a heap of such arrow-heads, the specimens which are found\nin America or Africa from those which are unearthed in Europe. Even in\nthe products of more advanced industry, we see early pottery, for\nexample, so closely alike everywhere that, in the British Museum,\nMexican vases have, ere now, been mixed up on the same shelf with\narchaic vessels from Greece. In the same way, if a superstition or a\nriddle were offered to a student of folklore, he would have much\ndifficulty in guessing its _provenance_, and naming the race from\nwhich it was brought. Suppose you tell a folklorist that, in a certain\ncountry, when any one sneezes, people say 'Good luck to you,' the\nstudent cannot say _a priori_ what country you refer to, what race you\nhave in your thoughts. It may be Florida, as Florida was when first\ndiscovered; it may be Zululand, or West Africa, or ancient Rome, or\nHomeric Greece, or Palestine. In all these, and many other regions,\nthe sneeze was welcomed as an auspicious omen. The little superstition\nis as widely distributed as the flint arrow-heads. Just as the object\nand use of the arrow-heads became intelligible when we found similar\nweapons in actual use among savages, so the salutation to the sneezer\nbecomes intelligible when we learn that the savage has a good reason\nfor it. He thinks the sneeze expels an evil spirit. Proverbs, again,\nand riddles are as universally scattered, and the Wolufs puzzle over\nthe same _devinettes_ as the Scotch schoolboy or the Breton peasant.\nThus, for instance, the Wolufs of Senegal ask each other, 'What flies\nfor ever, and rests never?'--Answer, 'The Wind.' 'Who are the comrades\nthat always fight, and never hurt each other?'--'The Teeth.' In\nFrance, as we read in the 'Recueil de Calembours,' the people ask,\n'What runs faster than a horse, crosses water, and is not\nwet?'--Answer, 'The Sun.' The Samoans put the riddle, 'A man who\nstands between two ravenous fishes?'--Answer, 'The tongue between the\nteeth.' Again, 'There are twenty brothers, each with a hat on his\nhead?'--Answer, 'Fingers and toes, with nails for hats.' This is like\nthe French '_un pere a douze fils?_'--'_l'an_.'[9] A comparison of M.\nRolland's 'Devinettes' with the Woluf conundrums of Boilat, the Samoan\nexamples in Turner's 'Samoa,' and the Scotch enigmas collected by\nChambers, will show the identity of peasant and savage humour.\n\nA few examples, less generally known, may be given to prove that the\nbeliefs of folklore are not peculiar to any one race or stock of men.\nThe first case is remarkable: it occurs in Mexico and Ceylon, and has\nbeen found in other regions. In _Macmillan's Magazine_[10] is\npublished a paper by Mrs. Edwards, called 'The Mystery of the Pezazi.'\nThe events described in this narrative occurred on August 28, 1876, in\na bungalow some thirty miles from Badiella. The narrator occupied a\nnew house on an estate called Allagalla. Her native servants soon\nasserted that the place was haunted by a Pezazi. The English visitors\nsaw and heard nothing extraordinary till a certain night: an abridged\naccount of what happened then may be given in the words of Mrs.\nEdwards:--\n\n    Wrapped in dreams, I lay on the night in question tranquilly\n    sleeping, but gradually roused to a perception that\n    discordant sounds disturbed the serenity of my slumber. Loth\n    to stir, I still dosed on, the sounds, however, becoming, as\n    it seemed, more determined to make themselves heard! and I\n    awoke to the consciousness that they proceeded from a belt of\n    adjacent jungle, and resembled the noise that would be\n    produced by some person felling timber.\n\n    Shutting my ears to the disturbance, I made no sign, until,\n    with an expression of impatience, E---- suddenly started up,\n    when I laid a detaining grasp upon his arm, murmuring that\n    there was no need to think of rising at present--it must be\n    quite early, and the kitchen cooly was doubtless cutting\n    firewood in good time. E---- responded, in a tone of slight\n    contempt, that no one could be cutting firewood at that hour,\n    and the sounds were more suggestive of felling jungle; and he\n    then inquired how long I had been listening to them. Now\n    thoroughly aroused I replied that I had heard the sounds for\n    some time, at first confusing them with my dreams, but soon\n    sufficiently awakening to the fact that they were no mere\n    phantoms of my imagination, but a reality. During our\n    conversation the noises became more distinct and loud; blow\n    after blow resounded, as of the axe descending upon the tree,\n    followed by the crash of the falling timber. Renewed blows\n    announced the repetition of the operations on another tree,\n    and continued till several were devastated.\n\nIt is unnecessary to tell more of the tale. In spite of minute\nexaminations and close search, no solution of the mystery of the\nnoises, on this or any other occasion, was ever found. The natives, of\ncourse, attributed the disturbance to the _Pezazi_ or goblin. No one\nperhaps has asserted that the Aztecs were connected by ties of race\nwith the people of Ceylon. Yet when the Spaniards conquered Mexico,\nand when Sahagun (one of the earliest missionaries) collected the\nlegends of the people, he found them, like the Cingalese, strong\nbelievers in the mystic tree-felling. We translate Sahagun's account\nof the 'midnight axe':--\n\n    When so any man heareth the sound of strokes in the night as\n    if one were felling trees, he reckons it an evil boding. And\n    this sound they call _youaltepuztli_ (_youalli_, night; and\n    _tepuztli_, copper), which signifies 'the midnight hatchet.'\n    This noise cometh about the time of the first sleep, when all\n    men slumber soundly, and the night is still. The sound of\n    strokes smitten was first noted by the temple-servants,\n    called _tlamacazque_, at the hour when they go in the night\n    to make their offering of reeds or of boughs of pine, for so\n    was their custom, and this penance they did on the\n    neighbouring hills, and that when the night was far spent.\n    Whenever they heard such a sound as one makes when he splits\n    wood with an axe (a noise that may be heard afar off), they\n    drew thence an omen of evil, and were afraid and said that\n    the sounds were part of the witchery of Tezcatlipoca, that\n    often thus dismayeth men who journey in the night. Now, when\n    tidings of these things came to a certain brave man, one\n    exercised in war, he drew near, being guided by the sound,\n    till he came to the very cause of the hubbub. And when he\n    came upon it, with difficulty he caught it, for the thing was\n    hard to catch; natheless at last he overtook that which ran\n    before him; and behold, it was a man without a heart, and, on\n    either side of the chest, two holes that opened and shut, and\n    so made the noise. Then the man put his hand within the\n    breast of the figure and grasped the breast and shook it\n    hard, demanding some grace or gift.\n\nAs a rule, the grace demanded was power to make captives in war. The\ncurious coincidence of the 'midnight axe,' occurring in lands so\nremote as Ceylon and Mexico, and the singular attestation by an\nEnglish lady of the actual existence of the disturbance, makes this\n_youaltepuztli_ one of the quaintest things in the province of the\nfolklorist. But, whatever the cause of the noise, or of the beliefs\nconnected with the noise, may be, no one would explain them as the\nresult of community of _race_ between Cingalese and Aztecs. Nor would\nthis explanation be offered to account for the Aztec and English\nbelief that the creaking of furniture is an omen of death in a house.\nObviously, these opinions are the expression of a common state of\nsuperstitious fancy, not the signs of an original community of\norigin.[11]\n\nLet us take another piece of folklore. All North-country English folk\nknow the _Kernababy_. The custom of the 'Kernababy' is commonly\nobserved in England, or, at all events, in Scotland, where the writer\nhas seen many a kernababy. The last gleanings of the last field are\nbound up in a rude imitation of the human shape, and dressed in some\ntag-rags of finery. The usage has fallen into the conservative hands\nof children, but of old 'the Maiden' was a regular image of the\nharvest goddess, which, with a sickle and sheaves in her arms,\nattended by a crowd of reapers, and accompanied with music, followed\nthe last carts home to the farm.[12] It is odd enough that 'the\nMaiden' should exactly translate ~Kore~, the old Sicilian name of the\ndaughter of Demeter. 'The Maiden' has dwindled, then, among us to the\nrudimentary kernababy; but ancient Peru had her own Maiden, her\nHarvest Goddess. Here it is easy to trace the natural idea at the\nbasis of the superstitious practice which links the shores of the\nPacific with our own northern coast. Just as a portion of the yule-log\nand of the Christmas bread were kept all the year through, a kind of\nnest-egg of plenteous food and fire, so the kernababy, English or\nPeruvian, is an earnest that corn will not fail all through the year,\ntill next harvest comes. For this reason the kernababy used to be\ntreasured from autumn's end to autumn's end, though now it commonly\ndisappears very soon after the harvest home. It is thus that Acosta\ndescribes in Grimston's old translation (1604) the Peruvian kernababy\nand the Peruvian harvest home:--\n\n    This feast is made comming from the chacra or farme unto the\n    house, saying certaine songs, and praying that the Mays\n    (maize) may long continue, the which they call _Mama cora_.\n\nWhat a chance this word offers to etymologists of the old school: how\npromptly they would recognise, in _mama_ mother--~meter~, and in\n_cora_--~kore~, the Mother and the Maiden, the feast of Demeter and\nPersephone! However, the days of that old school of antiquarianism are\nnumbered. To return to the Peruvian harvest home:--\n\n    They take a certaine portion of the most fruitefull of the\n    Mays that growes in their farmes, the which they put in a\n    certaine granary which they do calle Pirua, with certaine\n    ceremonies, watching three nightes; they put this Mays in the\n    richest garments they have, and, being thus wrapped and\n    dressed, they worship this Pirua, and hold it in great\n    veneration, saying it is the Mother of the Mays of their\n    inheritances, and that by this means the Mays augments and is\n    preserved. In this moneth they make a particular sacrifice,\n    and the witches demand of this Pirua, 'if it hath strength\n    sufficient to continue until the next yeare,' and if it\n    answers 'no,' then they carry this Mays to the farme to\n    burne, whence they brought it, according to every man's\n    power, then they make another Pirua, with the same\n    ceremonies, saying that they renue it, to the ende that the\n    seede of the Mays may not perish.\n\nThe idea that the maize can speak need not surprise us; the Mexican\nheld much the same belief, according to Sahagun:--\n\n    It was thought that if some grains of maize fell on the\n    ground he who saw them lying there was bound to lift them,\n    wherein, if he failed, he harmed the maize, which plained\n    itself of him to God, saying, 'Lord, punish this man, who saw\n    me fallen and raised me not again; punish him with famine,\n    that he may learn not to hold me in dishonour.'\n\nWell, in all this affair of the Scotch kernababy, and the Peruvian\n_Mama cora_, we need no explanation beyond the common simple ideas of\nhuman nature. We are not obliged to hold, either that the Peruvians\nand Scotch are akin by blood, nor that, at some forgotten time, they\nmet each other, and borrowed each other's superstitions.[13] Again,\nwhen we find Odysseus sacrificing a black sheep to the dead,[14] and\nwhen we read that the Ovahereroes in South Africa also appease with a\nblack sheep the spirits of the departed, we do not feel it necessary\nto hint that the Ovahereroes are of Greek descent, or have borrowed\ntheir ritual from the Greeks. The connection between the colour black,\nand mourning for the dead, is natural and almost universal.\n\nExamples like these might be adduced in any number. We might show how,\nin magic, negroes of Barbadoes make clay effigies of their enemies,\nand pierce them, just as Greeks did in Plato's time, or the men of\nAccad in remotest antiquity. We might remark the Australian black\nputting sharp bits of quartz in the tracks of an enemy who has gone\nby, that the enemy may be lamed; and we might point to Boris Godunof\nforbidding the same practice among the Russians. We might watch\nScotch, and Australians, and Jews, and French, and Aztecs spreading\ndust round the body of a dead man, that the footprints of his ghost,\nor of other ghosts, may be detected next morning. We might point to a\nsimilar device in a modern novel, where the presence of a ghost is\nsuspected, as proof of the similar workings of the Australian mind and\nof the mind of Mrs. Riddell. We shall later turn to ancient Greece,\nand show how the serpent-dances, the habit of smearing the body with\nclay, and other odd rites of the mysteries, were common to Hellenic\nreligion, and to the religion of African, Australian, and American\ntribes.\n\nNow, with regard to all these strange usages, what is the method of\nfolklore? The method is, when an apparently irrational and anomalous\ncustom is found in any country, to look for a country where a similar\npractice is found, and where the practice is no longer irrational and\nanomalous, but in harmony with the manners and ideas of the people\namong whom it prevails. That Greeks should dance about in their\nmysteries with harmless serpents in their hands looks quite\nunintelligible. When a wild tribe of Red Indians does the same thing,\nas a trial of courage, with real rattlesnakes, we understand the Red\nMan's motives, and may conjecture that similar motives once existed\namong the ancestors of the Greeks. Our method, then, is to compare the\nseemingly meaningless customs or manners of civilised races with the\nsimilar customs and manners which exist among the uncivilised and\nstill retain their meaning. It is not necessary for comparison of this\nsort that the uncivilised and the civilised race should be of the same\nstock, nor need we prove that they were ever in contact with each\nother. Similar conditions of mind produce similar practices, apart\nfrom identity of race, or borrowing of ideas and manners.\n\nLet us return to the example of the flint arrow-heads. Everywhere\nneolithic arrow-heads are pretty much alike. The cause of the\nresemblance is no more than this, that men, with the same needs, the\nsame materials, and the same rude instruments, everywhere produced the\nsame kind of arrow-head. No hypothesis of interchange of ideas nor of\ncommunity of race is needed to explain the resemblance of form in the\nmissiles. Very early pottery in any region is, for the same causes,\nlike very early pottery in any other region. The same sort of\nsimilarity was explained by the same resemblances in human nature,\nwhen we touched on the identity of magical practices and of\nsuperstitious beliefs. This method is fairly well established and\northodox when we deal with usages and superstitious beliefs; but may\nwe apply the same method when we deal with myths?\n\nHere a difficulty occurs. Mythologists, as a rule, are averse to the\nmethod of folklore. They think it scientific to compare only the myths\nof races which speak languages of the same family, and of races which\nhave, in historic times, been actually in proved contact with each\nother. Thus, most mythologists hold it correct to compare Greek,\nSlavonic, Celtic, and Indian stories, because Greeks, Slavs, Celts,\nand Hindoos all speak languages of the same family. Again, they hold\nit correct to compare Chaldaean and Greek myths, because the Greeks and\nthe Chaldaeans were brought into contact through the Phoenicians, and\nby other intermediaries, such as the Hittites. But the same\nmythologists will vow that it is unscientific to compare a Maori or a\nHottentot or an Eskimo myth with an Aryan story, because Maoris and\nEskimo and Hottentots do not speak languages akin to that of Greece,\nnor can we show that the ancestors of Greeks, Maoris, Hottentots, and\nEskimo were ever in contact with each other in historical times.\n\nNow the peculiarity of the method of folklore is that it will venture\nto compare (with due caution and due examination of evidence) the\nmyths of the most widely severed races. Holding that myth is a product\nof the early human fancy, working on the most rudimentary knowledge of\nthe outer world, the student of folklore thinks that differences of\nrace do not much affect the early mythopoeic faculty. He will not be\nsurprised if Greeks and Australian blacks are in the same tale.\n\nIn each case, he holds, all the circumstances of the case must be\nexamined and considered. For instance, when the Australians tell a\nmyth about the Pleiades very like the Greek myth of the Pleiades, we\nmust ask a number of questions. Is the Australian version authentic?\nCan the people who told it have heard it from a European? If these\nquestions are answered so as to make it apparent that the Australian\nPleiad myth is of genuine native origin, we need not fly to the\nconclusion that the Australians are a lost and forlorn branch of the\nAryan race. Two other hypotheses present themselves. First, the human\nspecies is of unknown antiquity. In the moderate allowance of 250,000\nyears, there is time for stories to have wandered all round the\nworld, as the Aggry beads of Ashanti have probably crossed the\ncontinent from Egypt, as the Asiatic jade (if Asiatic it be) has\narrived in Swiss lake-dwellings, as an African trade-cowry is said to\nhave been found in a Cornish barrow, as an Indian Ocean shell has been\ndiscovered in a prehistoric bone-cave in Poland. This slow filtration\nof tales is not absolutely out of the question. Two causes would\nespecially help to transmit myths. The first is slavery and\nslave-stealing, the second is the habit of capturing brides from alien\nstocks, and the law which forbids marriage with a woman of a man's own\nfamily. Slaves and captured brides would bring their native legends\namong alien peoples.\n\nBut there is another possible way of explaining the resemblance\n(granting that it is proved) of the Greek and Australian Pleiad myth.\nThe object of both myths is to account for the grouping and other\nphenomena of the constellations. May not similar explanatory stories\nhave occurred to the ancestors of the Australians, and to the\nancestors of the Greeks, however remote their home, while they were\nstill in the savage condition? The best way to investigate this point\nis to collect all known savage and civilised stellar myths, and see\nwhat points they have in common. If they all agree in character,\nthough the Greek tales are full of grace, while those of the\nAustralians or Brazilians are rude enough, we may plausibly account\nfor the similarity of myths, as we accounted for the similarity of\nflint arrow-heads. The myths, like the arrow-heads, resemble each\nother because they were originally framed to meet the same needs out\nof the same material. In the case of the arrow-heads, the need was for\nsomething hard, heavy, and sharp--the material was flint. In the case\nof the myths, the need was to explain certain phenomena--the material\n(so to speak) was an early state of the human mind, to which all\nobjects seemed equally endowed with human personality, and to which no\nmetamorphosis appeared impossible.\n\nIn the following essays, then, the myths and customs of various\npeoples will be compared, even when these peoples talk languages of\nalien families, and have never (so far as history shows us) been in\nactual contact. Our method throughout will be to place the usage, or\nmyth, which is unintelligible when found among a civilised race,\nbeside the similar myth which is intelligible enough when it is found\namong savages. A mean term will be found in the folklore preserved by\nthe non-progressive classes in a progressive people. This folklore\nrepresents, in the midst of a civilised race, the savage ideas out of\nwhich civilisation has been evolved. The conclusion will usually be\nthat the fact which puzzles us by its presence in civilisation is a\nrelic surviving from the time when the ancestors of a civilised race\nwere in the state of savagery. By this method it is not necessary that\n'some sort of genealogy should be established' between the Australian\nand the Greek narrators of a similar myth, nor between the Greek and\nAustralian possessors of a similar usage. The hypothesis will be that\nthe myth, or usage, is common to both races, not because of original\ncommunity of stock, not because of contact and borrowing, but because\nthe ancestors of the Greeks passed through the savage intellectual\ncondition in which we find the Australians.\n\nThe questions may be asked, Has race nothing, then, to do with myth?\nDo peoples never consciously borrow myths from each other? The answer\nis, that race has a great deal to do with the development of myth, if\nit be race which confers on a people its national genius, and its\ncapacity of becoming civilised. If race does this, then race affects,\nin the most powerful manner, the ultimate development of myth. No one\nis likely to confound a Homeric myth with a myth from the Edda, nor\neither with a myth from a Brahmana, though in all three cases the\nsubstance, the original set of ideas, may be much the same. In all\nthree you have anthropomorphic gods, capable of assuming animal\nshapes, tricky, capricious, limited in many undivine ways, yet endowed\nwith magical powers. So far the mythical gods of Homer, of the Edda,\nof any of the Brahmanas, are on a level with each other, and not much\nabove the gods of savage mythology. This stuff of myth is _quod\nsemper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus_, and is the original gift of the\nsavage intellect. But the final treatment, the ultimate literary form\nof the myth, varies in each race. Homeric gods, like Red Indian,\nThlinkeet, or Australian gods, can assume the shapes of birds. But\nwhen we read, in Homer, of the arming of Athene, the hunting of\nArtemis, the vision of golden Aphrodite, the apparition of Hermes,\nlike a young man when the flower of youth is loveliest, then we\nrecognise the effect of race upon myth, the effect of the Greek genius\nat work on rude material. Between the Olympians and a Thlinkeet god\nthere is all the difference that exists between the Demeter of Cnidos\nand an image from Easter Island. Again, the Scandinavian gods, when\ntheir tricks are laid aside, when Odin is neither assuming the shape\nof worm nor of raven, have a martial dignity, a noble enduring spirit\nof their own. Race comes out in that, as it does in the endless\nsacrifices, soma drinking, magical austerities, and puerile follies of\nVedic and Brahmanic gods, the deities of a people fallen early into\nits sacerdotage and priestly second childhood. Thus race declares\nitself in the ultimate literary form and character of mythology, while\nthe common savage basis and stuff of myths may be clearly discerned in\nthe horned, and cannibal, and shape-shifting, and adulterous gods of\nGreece, of India, of the North. They all show their common savage\norigin, when the poet neglects Freya's command and tells of what the\ngods did 'in the morning of Time.'\n\nAs to borrowing, we have already shown that in prehistoric times there\nmust have been much transmission of myth. The migrations of peoples,\nthe traffic in slaves, the law of exogamy, which always keeps bringing\nalien women into the families--all these things favoured the migration\nof myth. But the process lies behind history: we can only guess at it,\nwe can seldom trace a popular legend on its travels. In the case of\nthe cultivated ancient peoples, we know that they themselves believed\nthey had borrowed their religions from each other. When the Greeks\nfirst found the Egyptians practising mysteries like their own, they\nleaped to the conclusion that their own rites had been imported from\nEgypt. We, who know that both Greek and Egyptian rites had many points\nin common with those of Mandans, Zunis, Bushmen, Australians--people\nquite unconnected with Egypt--feel less confident about the\nhypothesis of borrowing. We may, indeed, regard Adonis, and Zeus\nBagaeus, and Melicertes, as importations from Phoenicia. In later\ntimes, too, the Greeks, and still more the Romans, extended a free\nhospitality to alien gods and legends, to Serapis, Isis, the wilder\nDionysiac revels, and so forth. But this habit of borrowing was\nregarded with disfavour by pious conservatives, and was probably, in\nthe width of its hospitality at least, an innovation. As Tiele\nremarks, we cannot derive Dionysus from the Assyrian _Daian nisi_\n'judge of men,' a name of the solar god Samas, without ascertaining\nthat the wine-god exercised judicial functions, and was a god of the\nsun. These derivations, 'shocking to common-sense,' are to be\ndistrusted as part of the intoxication of new learning. Some Assyrian\nscholars actually derive _Hades_ from _Bit Edi_ or _Bit Hadi_--'though\nunluckily,' says Tiele, 'there is no such word in the Assyrian text.'\nOn the whole topic Tiele's essay[15] deserves to be consulted.\nGranting, then, that elements in the worship of Dionysus, Aphrodite,\nand other gods, may have been imported with the strange\nAEgypto-Assyrian vases and jewels of the Sidonians, we still find the\nsame basis of rude savage ideas. We may push back a god from Greece to\nPhoenicia, from Phoenicia to Accadia, but, at the end of the end, we\nreach a legend full of myths like those which Bushmen tell by the camp\nfire, Eskimo in their dark huts, and Australians in the shade of the\n_gunyeh_--myths cruel, puerile, obscene, like the fancies of the\nsavage myth-makers from which they sprang.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[6] A study of the contemporary stone age in Scotland will be found in\nMitchell's _Past and Present_.\n\n[7] About twenty years ago, the widow of an Irish farmer, in Derry,\nkilled her deceased husband's horse. When remonstrated with by her\nlandlord, she said, 'Would you have my man go about on foot in the\nnext world?' She was quite in the savage intellectual stage.\n\n[8] 'At the solemn festival suppers, ordained for the honour of the\ngods, they forget not to serve up certain dishes of young whelp's\nflesh' (Pliny, _H. N._, xxix. 4).\n\n[9] Compare Cleobulus, Fr. 2: Bergk, _Lyr. Gr._, iii. 201. Ed. 4.\n\n[10] Nov., 1880.\n\n[11] Mr. Leslie Stephen points out to me that De Quincey's brother\nheard 'the midnight axe' in the Galapagos Islands (_Autobiographical\nSketches_, 'My Brother').\n\n[12] 'Ah, once again may I plant the great fan on her corn-heap, while\nshe stands smiling by, Demeter of the threshing floor, with sheaves\nand poppies in her hands' (Theocritus, vii. 155-157).\n\n[13] In Mr. Frazer's _Golden Bough_ is a very large collection of\nsimilar harvest rites.\n\n[14] _Odyssey_, xi. 32.\n\n[15] _Rev. de l'Hist. des Rel._, vol. ii.\n\n\n\n\n_THE BULL-ROARER._\n\nA STUDY OF THE MYSTERIES.\n\n\nAs the belated traveller makes his way through the monotonous plains\nof Australia, through the Bush, with its level expanses and clumps of\ngrey-blue gum trees, he occasionally hears a singular sound. Beginning\nlow, with a kind of sharp tone thrilling through a whirring noise, it\ngrows louder and louder, till it becomes a sort of fluttering windy\nroar. If the traveller be a new-comer, he is probably puzzled to the\nlast degree. If he be an Englishman, country-bred, he says to himself,\n'Why, that is the bull-roarer.' If he knows the colony and the ways of\nthe natives, he knows that the blacks are celebrating their tribal\nmysteries. The roaring noise is made to warn all women to keep out of\nthe way. Just as Pentheus was killed (with the approval of Theocritus)\nbecause he profaned the rites of the women-worshippers of Dionysus,\nso, among the Australian blacks, men must, at their peril, keep out of\nthe way of female, and women out of the way of male, celebrations.\n\nThe instrument which produces the sounds that warn women to remain\nafar is a toy familiar to English country lads. They call it the\nbull-roarer. The common bull-roarer is an inexpensive toy which any\none can make. I do not, however, recommend it to families, for two\nreasons. In the first place, it produces a most horrible and\nunexampled din, which endears it to the very young, but renders it\ndetested by persons of mature age. In the second place, the character\nof the toy is such that it will almost infallibly break all that is\nfragile in the house where it is used, and will probably put out the\neyes of some of the inhabitants. Having thus, I trust, said enough to\nprevent all good boys from inflicting bull-roarers on their parents,\npastors and masters, I proceed (in the interests of science) to show\nhow the toy is made. Nothing can be less elaborate. You take a piece\nof the commonest wooden board, say the lid of a packing-case, about a\nsixth of an inch in thickness, and about eight inches long and three\nbroad, and you sharpen the ends. When finished, the toy may be about\nthe shape of a large bay-leaf, or a 'fish' used as a counter (that is\nhow the New Zealanders make it), or the sides may be left plain in the\ncentre, and only sharpened towards the extremities, as in an\nAustralian example lent me by Mr. Tylor. Then tie a strong piece of\nstring, about thirty inches long, to one end of the piece of wood, and\nthe bull-roarer (the Australian natives call it _turndun_, and the\nGreeks call it ~rhombos~) is complete. Now twist the end of the string\ntightly about your finger, and whirl the bull-roarer rapidly round and\nround. For a few moments nothing will happen. In a very interesting\nlecture delivered at the Royal Institution, Mr. Taylor once exhibited\na bull-roarer. At first it did nothing particular when it was whirled\nround, and the audience began to fear that the experiment was like\nthose chemical ones often exhibited at institutes in the country,\nwhich contribute at most a disagreeable odour to the education of the\npopulace. But when the bull-roarer warmed to its work, it justified\nits name, producing what may best be described as a mighty rushing\nnoise, as if some supernatural being 'fluttered and buzzed his wings\nwith fearful roar.' Grown-up people, of course, are satisfied with a\nvery brief experience of this din, but boys have always known the\nbull-roarer in England as one of the most efficient modes of making\nthe hideous and unearthly noises in which it is the privilege of youth\nto delight.\n\nThe bull-roarer has, of all toys, the widest diffusion, and the most\nextraordinary history. To study the bull-roarer is to take a lesson in\nfolklore. The instrument is found among the most widely severed\npeoples, savage and civilised, and is used in the celebration of\nsavage and civilised mysteries. There are students who would found on\nthis a hypothesis that the various races that use the bull-roarer all\ndescend from the same stock. But the bull-roarer is introduced here\nfor the very purpose of showing that similar minds, working with\nsimple means towards similar ends, might evolve the bull-roarer and\nits mystic uses anywhere. There is no need for a hypothesis of common\norigin, or of borrowing, to account for this widely diffused sacred\nobject.\n\nThe bull-roarer has been, and is, a sacred and magical instrument in\nmany and widely separated lands. It is found, always as a sacred\ninstrument, employed in religious mysteries, in New Mexico, in\nAustralia, in New Zealand, in ancient Greece, and in Africa; while, as\nwe have seen, it is a peasant boy's plaything in England. A number of\nquestions are naturally suggested by the bull-roarer. Is it a thing\ninvented once for all, and carried abroad over the world by wandering\nraces, or handed on from one people and tribe to another? Or is the\nbull-roarer a toy that might be accidentally hit on in any country\nwhere men can sharpen wood and twist the sinews of animals into\nstring? Was the thing originally a toy, and is its religious and\nmystical nature later; or was it originally one of the properties of\nthe priest, or medicine-man, which in England has dwindled to a\nplaything? Lastly, was this mystical instrument at first employed in\nthe rites of a civilised people like the Greeks, and was it in some\nway borrowed or inherited by South Africans, Australians, and New\nMexicans? Or is it a mere savage invention, surviving (like certain\nother features of the Greek mysteries) from a distant state of\nsavagery? Our answer to all these questions is that in all probability\nthe presence of the ~rhombos~, or bull-roarer, in Greek mysteries was\na survival from the time when Greeks were in the social condition of\nAustralians.\n\nIn the first place the bull-roarer is associated with mysteries and\ninitiations. Now mysteries and initiations are things that tend to\ndwindle and to lose their characteristic features as civilisation\nadvances. The rites of baptism and confirmation are not secret and\nhidden; they are common to both sexes, they are publicly performed,\nand religion and morality of the purest sort blend in these\nceremonies. There are no other initiations or mysteries that\ncivilised modern man is expected necessarily to pass through. On the\nother hand, looking widely at human history, we find mystic rites and\ninitiations numerous, stringent, severe, and magical in character, in\nproportion to the lack of civilisation in those who practise them. The\nless the civilisation, the more mysterious and the more cruel are the\nrites. The more cruel the rites, the less is the civilisation. The red\nhot poker with which Mr. Bouncer terrified Mr. Verdant Green at the\nsham masonic rites would have been quite in place, a natural\ninstrument of probationary torture, in the Freemasonry of Australians,\nMandans, or Hottentots. In the mysteries of Demeter or Bacchus, in the\nmysteries of a civilised people, the red-hot poker, or any other\ninstrument of torture, would have been out of place. But in the Greek\nmysteries, just as in those of South Africans, Red Indians, and\nAustralians, the disgusting practice of bedaubing the neophyte with\ndirt and clay was preserved. We have nothing quite like that in modern\ninitiations. Except at Sparta, Greeks dropped the tortures inflicted\non boys and girls in the initiations superintended by the cruel\nArtemis.[16] But Greek mysteries retained the daubing with mud and the\nuse of the bull-roarer. On the whole, then, and on a general view of\nthe subject, we prefer to think that the bull-roarer in Greece was a\nsurvival from savage mysteries, not that the bull-roarer in New\nMexico, New Zealand, Australia, and South Africa is a relic of\ncivilisation.\n\nLet us next observe a remarkable peculiarity of the _turndun_, or\nAustralian bull-roarer. The bull-roarer in England is a toy. In\nAustralia, according to Howitt and Fison,[17] the bull-roarer is\nregarded with religious awe. 'When, on lately meeting with two of the\nsurviving Kurnai, I spoke to them of the turndun, they first looked\ncautiously round them to see that no one else was looking, and then\nanswered me in undertones.' The chief peculiarity in connection with\nthe turndun is that women may never look upon it. The Chepara tribe,\nwho call it _bribbun_, have a custom that, 'if seen by a woman, or\nshown by a man to a woman, the punishment to both is _death_.'\n\nAmong the Kurnai, the sacred mystery of the turndun is preserved by a\nlegend, which gives a supernatural sanction to secrecy. When boys go\nthrough the mystic ceremony of initiation they are shown turnduns, or\nbull-roarers, and made to listen to their hideous din. They are then\ntold that, if ever a woman is allowed to see a turndun, the earth will\nopen, and water will cover the globe. The old men point spears at the\nboy's eyes, saying: 'If you tell this to any woman you will die, you\nwill see the ground broken up and like the sea; if you tell this to\nany woman, or to any child, you will be killed!' As in Athens, in\nSyria, and among the Mandans, the deluge-tradition of Australia is\nconnected with the mysteries. In Gippsland there is a tradition of\nthe deluge. 'Some children of the Kurnai in playing about found a\nturndun, which they took home to the camp and showed the women.\nImmediately the earth crumbled away, and it was all water, and the\nKurnai were drowned.'\n\nIn consequence of all this mummery the Australian women attach great\nsacredness to the very name of the turndun. They are much less\ninstructed in their own theology than the men of the tribe. One woman\nbelieved she had heard Pundjel, the chief supernatural being, descend\nin a mighty rushing noise, that is, in the sound of the turndun, when\nboys were being 'made men,' or initiated.[18] On turnduns the\nAustralian sorcerers can fly up to heaven. Turnduns carved with\nimitations of water-flowers are used by medicine-men in rain-making.\nNew Zealand also has her bull-roarers; some of them, carved in relief,\nare in the Christy Museum, and one is engraved here. I have no direct\nevidence as to the use of these Maori bull-roarers in the Maori\nmysteries. Their employment, however, may perhaps be provisionally\ninferred.\n\n[Illustration: {A New Zealand bull-roarer}]\n\nOne can readily believe that the New Zealand bull-roarer may be\nwhirled by any man who is repeating a _Karakia_, or 'charm to raise\nthe wind':--\n\n    Loud wind,\n    Lasting wind,\n    Violent whistling wind,\n    Dig up the calm reposing sky,\n      Come, come.\n\nIn New Zealand[19] 'the natives regarded the wind as an indication of\nthe presence of their god,' a superstition not peculiar to Maori\nreligion. The 'cold wind' felt blowing over the hands at\nspiritualistic _seances_ is also regarded (by physical researchers) as\nan indication of the presence of supernatural beings. The windy\nroaring noise made by the bull-roarer might readily be considered by\nsavages, either as an invitation to a god who should present himself\nin storm, or as a proof of his being at hand. We have seen that this\nview was actually taken by an Australian woman. The hymn called\n'breath' or _haha_, a hymn to the mystic wind, is pronounced by Maori\npriests at the moment of the initiation of young men in the tribal\nmysteries. It is a mere conjecture, and possibly enough capable of\ndisproof, but we have a suspicion that the use of the _mystica vannus\nIacchi_ was a mode of raising a sacred wind analogous to that employed\nby whirlers of the turndun.[20]\n\nServius, the ancient commentator on Virgil, mentions, among other\nopinions, this--that the _vannus_ was a sieve, and that it symbolised\nthe purifying effect of the mysteries. But it is clear that Servius\nwas only guessing; and he offers other explanations, among them that\nthe _vannus_ was a crate to hold offerings, _primitias frugum_.\n\nWe have studied the bull-roarer in Australia, we have caught a glimpse\nof it in England. Its existence on the American continent is proved by\nletters from New Mexico, and by the passage in Mr. Frank Cushing's\n_Adventures in Zuni_.[21] In Zuni, too, among a semi-civilised Indian\ntribe, or rather a tribe which has left the savage for the barbaric\ncondition, we find the bull-roarer.[22] Here, too, the instrument--a\n'slat,' Mr. Cushing calls it--is used as a call to the ceremonial\nobservance of the tribal ritual. The Zunis have various 'orders of a\nmore or less sacred and sacerdotal character.' Mr. Cushing writes:--\n\n    These orders were engaged in their annual ceremonials, of\n    which little was told or shown me; but, at the end of four\n    days, I heard one morning a _deep whirring noise_. Running\n    out, I saw a procession of three priests of the bow, in\n    plumed helmets and closely-fitting cuirasses, both of thick\n    buckskin--gorgeous and solemn with sacred embroideries and\n    war-paint, begirt with bows, arrows, and war-clubs, and each\n    distinguished by his badge of degree--coming down one of the\n    narrow streets. The principal priest carried in his arms a\n    wooden idol, ferocious in aspect, yet beautiful with its\n    decorations of shell, turquoise, and brilliant paint. It was\n    nearly hidden by symbolic slats and prayer-sticks most\n    elaborately plumed. He was preceded by a guardian with drawn\n    bow and arrows, while another followed, _twirling the\n    sounding slat_, which had attracted alike my attention and\n    that of hundreds of the Indians, who hurriedly flocked to the\n    roofs of the adjacent houses, or lined the street, bowing\n    their heads in adoration, and scattering sacred prayer-meal\n    on the god and his attendant priests. Slowly they wound their\n    way down the hill, across the river, and off toward the\n    mountain of Thunder. Soon an identical procession followed\n    and took its way toward the western hills. I watched them\n    long until they disappeared, and a few hours afterward there\n    arose from the top of 'Thunder Mountain' a dense column of\n    smoke, simultaneously with another from the more distant\n    western mesa of 'U-ha-na-mi,' or 'Mount of the Beloved.'\n\n    Then they told me that for four days I must neither touch nor\n    eat flesh or oil of any kind, and for ten days neither throw\n    any refuse from my doors nor permit a spark to leave my\n    house, for 'This was the season of the year when the\n    \"grandmother of men\" (fire) was precious.'\n\nHere then, in Zuni, we have the bull-roarer again, and once more we\nfind it employed as a summons to the mysteries. We do not learn,\nhowever, that women in Zuni are forbidden to look upon the\nbull-roarer. Finally, the South African evidence, which is supplied by\nletters from a correspondent of Mr. Tylor's, proves that in South\nAfrica, too, the bull-roarer is employed to call the men to the\ncelebration of secret functions. A minute description of the\ninstrument, and of its magical power to raise a wind, is given in\nTheal's _Kaffir Folklore_, p. 209. The bull-roarer has not been made a\nsubject of particular research; very probably later investigations\nwill find it in other parts of the modern world besides America,\nAfrica, New Zealand, and Australia. I have myself been fortunate\nenough to encounter the bull-roarer on the soil of ancient Greece and\nin connection with the Dionysiac mysteries. Clemens of Alexandria, and\nArnobius, an early Christian father who follows Clemens, describe\ncertain toys of the child Dionysus which were used in the mysteries.\nAmong these are _turbines_, ~konoi~ and ~rhomboi~. The ordinary\ndictionaries interpret all these as whipping-tops, adding that\n~rhombos~ is sometimes 'a magic wheel.' The ancient scholiast on\nClemens, however, writes: 'The ~konos~ is a little piece of wood, to\nwhich a string is fastened, and in the mysteries it is whirled round\nto make a roaring noise.'[23] Here, in short, we have a brief but\ncomplete description of the bull-roarer of the Australian _turndun_.\nNo single point is omitted. The ~konos~, like the _turndun_, is a\nsmall object of wood, it is tied to a string, when whirled round it\nproduces a roaring noise, and it is used at initiations. This is not\nthe end of the matter.\n\nIn the part of the Dionysiac mysteries at which the toys of the child\nDionysus were exhibited, and during which (as it seems) the ~konos~,\nor bull-roarer, was whirred, the performers daubed themselves all over\nwith clay. This we learn from a passage in which Demosthenes describes\nthe youth of his hated adversary, AEschines. The mother of AEschines, he\nsays, was a kind of 'wise woman,' and dabbler in mysteries. AEschines\nused to aid her by bedaubing the initiate over with clay and bran.[24]\nThe word ~hapomatton~, here used by Demosthenes, is explained by\nHarpocration as the ritual term for daubing the initiated. A story was\ntold as usual, to explain this rite. It was said that, when the Titans\nattacked Dionysus and tore him to pieces, they painted themselves\nfirst with clay, or gypsum, that they might not be recognised. Nonnus\nshows, in several places, that down to his time the celebrants of the\nBacchic mysteries retained this dirty trick. Precisely the same trick\nprevails in the mysteries of savage peoples. Mr. Winwood Reade[25]\nreports the evidence of Mongilomba. When initiated, Mongilomba was\n'severely flogged in the Fetich House' (as young Spartans were flogged\nbefore the animated image of Artemis), and then he was 'plastered over\nwith goat-dung.' Among the natives of Victoria,[26] the 'body of the\ninitiated is bedaubed with clay, mud, charcoal powder, and filth of\nevery kind.' The girls are plastered with charcoal powder and white\nclay, answering to the Greek gypsum. Similar daubings were performed\nat the mysteries by the Mandans, as described by Catlin: and the Zunis\nmade raids on Mr. Cushing's black paint and Chinese ink for like\npurposes. On the Congo, Mr. Johnson found precisely the same ritual in\nthe initiations. Here, then, not to multiply examples, we discover\ntwo singular features in common between Greek and savage mysteries.\nBoth Greeks and savages employ the bull-roarer, both bedaub the\ninitiated with dirt or with white paint or chalk. As to the meaning of\nthe latter very un-Aryan practice, one has no idea, unless it\nrepresents the impure uninitiated condition, cleansed later by\nceremonies of initiation. It is only certain that war parties of\nAustralian blacks bedaub themselves with white clay to alarm their\nenemies in night attacks. The Phocians, according to Herodotus (viii.\n27), adopted the same 'aisy stratagem,' as Captain Costigan has it.\nTellies, the medicine-man (~mantis~), chalked some sixty Phocians,\nwhom he sent to make a night attack on the Thessalians. The sentinels\nof the latter were seized with supernatural horror, and fled, 'and\nafter the sentinels went the army.' In the same way, in a night attack\namong the Australian Kurnai,[27] 'they all rapidly painted themselves\nwith pipe-clay: red ochre is no use, it cannot frighten the enemy.'\nIf, then, Greeks in the historic period kept up Australian tactics, it\nis probable that the ancient mysteries of Greece might retain the\nhabit of daubing the initiated which occurs in savage rites.\n\n'Come now,' as Herodotus would say, 'I will show once more that the\nmysteries of the Greeks resemble those of Bushmen.' In Lucian's\nTreatise on Dancing,[28] we read, 'I pass over the fact that you\ncannot find a single ancient mystery in which there is not dancing....\nTo prove this I will not mention the secret acts of worship, on\naccount of the uninitiated. But this much all men know, that most\npeople say of those who reveal the mysteries, that they \"dance them\nout.\"' Here Liddel and Scott write, rather weakly, 'to dance out, let\nout, betray, probably of some dance which burlesqued these\nceremonies.' It is extremely improbable that, in an age when it was\nstill forbidden to reveal the ~orgia~, or secret rites, those rites\nwould be mocked in popular burlesques. Lucian obviously intends to say\nthat the matter of the mysteries was set forth in _ballets d'action_.\nNow this is exactly the case in the surviving mysteries of the\nBushmen. Shortly after the rebellion of Langalibalele's tribe, Mr.\nOrpen, the chief magistrate in St. John's Territory, made the\nacquaintance of Qing, one of the last of an all but exterminated\ntribe. Qing 'had never seen a white man, except fighting,' when he\nbecame Mr. Orpen's guide. He gave a good deal of information about the\nmyths of his people, but refused to answer certain questions. 'You are\nnow asking the secrets that are not spoken of.' Mr. Orpen asked, 'Do\nyou know the secrets?' Qing replied, 'No, only the initiated men of\nthat dance know these things.' To 'dance' this or that means, 'to be\nacquainted with this or that mystery;' the dances were originally\ntaught by Cagn, the mantis, or grasshopper god. In many mysteries,\nQing, as a young man, was not initiated. He could not 'dance them\nout.'[29]\n\nThere are thus undeniably close resemblances between the Greek\nmysteries and those of the lowest contemporary races.\n\nAs to the bull-roarer, its recurrence among Greeks, Zunis, Kamilaroi,\nMaoris, and South African races, would be regarded by some students as\na proof that all these tribes had a common origin, or had borrowed the\ninstrument from each other. But this theory is quite unnecessary. The\nbull-roarer is a very simple invention. Any one might find out that a\nbit of sharpened wood, tied to a string, makes, when whirred, a\nroaring noise. Supposing that discovery made, it is soon turned to\npractical use. All tribes have their mysteries. All want a signal to\nsummon the right persons together, and warn the wrong persons to keep\nout of the way. The church bell does as much for us, so did the shaken\n_seistrum_ for the Egyptians. People with neither bells nor _seistra_\nfind the bull-roarer, with its mysterious sound, serve their turn. The\nhiding of the instrument from women is natural enough. It merely makes\nthe alarm and absence of the curious sex doubly sure. The stories of\nsupernatural consequences to follow if a woman sees the turndun lend a\nsanction. This is not a random theory, without basis. In Brazil the\nnatives have no bull-roarer, but they have mysteries, and the presence\nof the women at the mysteries of the men is a terrible impiety. To\nwarn away the women the Brazilians make loud 'devil-music' on what are\ncalled 'jurupari pipes.' Now, just as in Australia, _the women may not\nsee the jurupari pipes on pain of death_. When the sound of the\njurupari pipes is heard, as when the turndun is heard in Australia,\nevery woman flees and hides herself. The women are always executed if\nthey see the pipes. Mr. Alfred Wallace bought a pair of these pipes,\nbut he had to embark them at a distance from the village where they\nwere procured. The seller was afraid that some unknown misfortune\nwould occur if the women of his village set eyes on the juruparis.[30]\n\nThe conclusion from all these facts seems obvious. The bull-roarer is\nan instrument easily invented by savages, and easily adopted into the\nritual of savage mysteries. If we find the bull-roarer used in the\nmysteries of the most civilised of ancient peoples, the most probable\nexplanation is, that the Greeks retained both the mysteries, the\nbull-roarer, the habit of bedaubing the initiate, the torturing of\nboys, the sacred obscenities, the antics with serpents, the dances,\nand the like, from the time when their ancestors were in the savage\ncondition. That more refined and religious ideas were afterwards\nintroduced into the mysteries seems certain, but the rites were in\nmany cases simply savage. Unintelligible (except as survivals) when\nfound among Hellenes, they become intelligible enough among savages,\nbecause they correspond to the intellectual condition and magical\nfancies of the lower barbarism. The same sort of comparison, the same\nkind of explanation, will account, as we shall see, for the savage\nmyths as well as for the savage customs which survived among the\nGreeks.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[16] Pausanias, iii. 15. When the boys were being cruelly scourged,\nthe priestess of Artemis Orthia held an ancient barbaric wooden image\nof the goddess in her hands. If the boys were spared, the image grew\nheavy; the more they were tortured, the lighter grew the image. In\nSamoa the image (shark's teeth) of the god Taema is consulted before\nbattle. 'If it felt heavy, that was a bad omen; if light, the sign was\ngood'--the god was pleased (Turner's _Samoa_, p. 55).\n\n[17] _Kamilaroi and Kurnai_, p. 268.\n\n[18] Fison, _Journal Anthrop. Soc._, Nov., 1883.\n\n[19] Taylor's _New Zealand_, p. 181.\n\n[20] This is not the view of le Pere Lafitau, a learned Jesuit\nmissionary in North America, who wrote (1724) a work on savage\nmanners, compared with the manners of heathen antiquity. Lafitau, who\nwas greatly struck with the resemblances between Greek and Iroquois or\nCarib initiations, takes Servius's other explanation of the _mystica\nvannus_, 'an osier vessel containing rural offerings of first fruits.'\nThis exactly answers, says Lafitau, to the Carib _Matoutou_, on which\nthey offer sacred cassava cakes.\n\n[21] _The Century Magazine_, May, 1883.\n\n[22] A minute account of the mysteries of Pueblo Indians, and their\nuse of the bull-roarer, will be found in Captain Bourke's _Snake Dance\nof the Moquis_.\n\n[23] ~Konos xylarion hou exeptai to spartion kai en tais teletais\nedoneito hina rhoize.~ Lobeck, _Aglaophamus_ (i. p. 700).\n\n[24] _De Corona_, p. 313.\n\n[25] _Savage Africa._ Captain Smith, the friend of Pocahontas,\nmentions the custom in his work on Virginia, pp. 245-248.\n\n[26] Brough Smyth, i. 60, using evidence of Howitt, Taplin, Thomas and\nWilhelmi.\n\n[27] _Kamilaroi and Kurnai_, p. 241.\n\n[28] ~Peri orcheseos~, c. 15.\n\n[29] _Cape Monthly Magazine_, July, 1874.\n\n[30] Wallace, _Travels on the Amazon_, p. 349.\n\n\n\n\n_THE MYTH OF CRONUS._\n\n\nIn a Maori pah, when a little boy behaves rudely to his parents, he is\nsometimes warned that he is 'as bad as cruel Tutenganahau.' If he asks\nwho Tutenganahau was, he is told the following story:--\n\n'In the beginning, the Heaven, Rangi, and the Earth, Papa, were the\nfather and mother of all things. \"In these days the Heaven lay upon\nthe Earth, and all was darkness. They had never been separated.\"\nHeaven and Earth had children, who grew up and lived in this thick\nnight, and they were unhappy because they could not see. Between the\nbodies of their parents they were imprisoned, and there was no light.\nThe names of the children were Tumatuenga, Tane Mahuta, Tutenganahau,\nand some others. So they all consulted as to what should be done with\ntheir parents, Rangi and Papa. \"Shall we slay them, or shall we\nseparate them?\" \"Go to,\" said Tumatuenga, \"let us slay them.\" \"No,\"\ncried Tane Mahuta, \"let us rather separate them. Let one go upwards,\nand become a stranger to us; let the other remain below, and be a\nparent to us.\" Only Tawhiri Matea (the wind) had pity on his own\nfather and mother. Then the fruit-gods, and the war-god, and the\nsea-god (for all the children of Papa and Rangi were gods) tried to\nrend their parents asunder. Last rose the forest-god, cruel\nTutenganahau. He severed the sinews which united Heaven and Earth,\nRangi and Papa. Then he pushed hard with his head and feet. Then\nwailed Heaven and exclaimed Earth, \"Wherefore this murder? Why this\ngreat sin? Why destroy us? Why separate us?\" But Tane pushed and\npushed: Rangi was driven far away into the air. \"_They became visible,\nwho had hitherto been concealed between the hollows of their parents'\nbreasts._\" Only the storm-god differed from his brethren: he arose and\nfollowed his father, Rangi, and abode with him in the open spaces of\nthe sky.'\n\nThis is the Maori story of the severing of the wedded Heaven and\nEarth. The cutting of them asunder was the work of Tutenganahau and\nhis brethren, and the conduct of Tutenganahau is still held up as an\nexample of filial impiety.[31] The story is preserved in sacred hymns\nof very great antiquity, and many of the myths are common to the other\npeoples of the Pacific.[32]\n\nNow let us turn from New Zealand to Athens, as she was in the days of\nPericles. Socrates is sitting in the porch of the King Archon, when\nEuthyphro comes up and enters into conversation with the philosopher.\nAfter some talk, Euthyphro says, 'You will think me mad when I tell\nyou whom I am prosecuting and pursuing!' 'Why, has the fugitive\nwings?' asks Socrates. 'Nay, he is not very volatile at his time of\nlife!' 'Who is he?' 'My father.' 'Good heavens! you don't mean that.\nWhat is he accused of?' 'Murder, Socrates.' Then Euthyphro explains\nthe case, which quaintly illustrates Greek civilisation. Euthyphro's\nfather had an agricultural labourer at Naxos. One day this man, in a\ndrunken passion, killed a slave. Euthyphro's father seized the\nlabourer, bound him, threw him into a ditch, 'and then sent to Athens\nto ask a diviner what should be done with him.' Before the answer of\nthe diviner arrived, the labourer literally 'died in a ditch' of\nhunger and cold. For this offence, Euthyphro was prosecuting his own\nfather. Socrates shows that he disapproves, and Euthyphro thus defends\nthe piety of his own conduct: 'The impious, whoever he may be, ought\nnot to go unpunished. For do not men regard Zeus as the best and most\nrighteous of gods? Yet even they admit that Zeus bound his own father\nCronus, because he wickedly devoured his sons; and that Cronus, too,\nhad punished his own father, Uranus, for a similar reason, in a\nnameless manner. And yet when _I_ proceed against _my_ father, people\nare angry with me. This is their inconsistent way of talking, when the\ngods are concerned, and when I am concerned.'\n\nHere Socrates breaks in. He 'cannot away with these stories about the\ngods,' and so he has just been accused of impiety, the charge for\nwhich he died. Socrates cannot believe that a god, Cronus, mutilated\nhis father Uranus, but Euthyphro believes the whole affair: 'I can\ntell you many other things about the gods which would quite amaze\nyou.'[33]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe have here a typical example of the way in which mythology puzzled\nthe early philosophers of Greece. Socrates was anxious to be pious,\nand to respect the most ancient traditions of the gods. Yet at the\nvery outset of sacred history he was met by tales of gods who\nmutilated and bound their own parents. Not only were such tales\nhateful to him, but they were of positively evil example to people\nlike Euthyphro. The problem remained, how did the fathers of the\nAthenians ever come to tell such myths?\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nLet us now examine the myth of Cronus, and the explanations which have\nbeen given by scholars. Near the beginning of things, according to\nHesiod (whose cosmogony was accepted in Greece), Earth gave birth to\nHeaven. Later, Heaven, Uranus, became the husband of Gaea, Earth. Just\nas Rangi and Papa, in New Zealand, had many children, so had Uranus\nand Gaea. As in New Zealand, some of these children were gods of the\nvarious elements. Among them were Oceanus, the deep, and Hyperion, the\nsun--as among the children of Earth and Heaven, in New Zealand, were\nthe Wind and the Sea. The youngest child of the Greek Heaven and Earth\nwas 'Cronus of crooked counsel, who ever hated his mighty sire.' Now\neven as the children of the Maori Heaven and Earth were 'concealed\nbetween the hollows of their parents' breasts,' so the Greek Heaven\nused to 'hide his children from the light in the hollows of Earth.'\nBoth Earth and her children resented this, and, as in New Zealand, the\nchildren conspired against Heaven, taking Earth, however, into their\ncounsels. Thereupon Earth produced iron, and bade her children avenge\ntheir wrongs.[34] Now fear fell on all of them, except Cronus, who,\nlike Tutenganahau, was all for action. Cronus determined to end the\nembraces of Heaven and Earth. But, while the Maori myth conceives of\nHeaven and Earth as of two beings which have never been separated\nbefore, Hesiod makes Heaven amorously approach his wife from a\ndistance. Then Cronus stretched out his hand, armed with a sickle of\niron, or steel, and mutilated Uranus. Thus were Heaven and Earth\npractically divorced. But as in the Maori myth one of the children of\nHeaven clave to his sire, so, in Greek, Oceanus remained faithful to\nhis father.[35]\n\nThis is the first portion of the myth of Cronus. Can it be denied that\nthe story is well illustrated and explained by the New Zealand\nparallel, the myth of the cruelty of Tutenganahau? By means of this\ncomparison, the meaning of the myth is made clear enough. Just as the\nNew Zealanders had conceived of Heaven and Earth as at one time\nunited, to the prejudice of their children, so the ancestors of the\nGreeks had believed in an ancient union of Heaven and Earth. Both by\nGreeks and Maoris, Heaven and Earth were thought of as living persons,\nwith human parts and passions. Their union was prejudicial to their\nchildren, and so the children violently separated the parents. This\nconduct is regarded as impious, and as an awful example to be avoided,\nin Maori pahs. In Naxos, on the other hand, Euthyphro deemed that the\nconduct of Cronus deserved imitation. If ever the Maoris had reached a\nhigh civilisation, they would probably have been revolted, like\nSocrates, by the myth which survived from their period of savagery.\nMr. Tylor well says,[36] 'Just as the adzes of polished jade, and the\ncloaks of tied flax-fibre, which these New Zealanders were using but\nyesterday, are older in their place in history than the bronze\nbattle-axes and linen mummy-cloths of ancient Egypt, so the Maori\npoet's shaping of nature into nature-myth belongs to a stage of\nintellectual history which was passing away in Greece five-and-twenty\ncenturies ago. The myth-maker's fancy of Heaven and Earth as father\nand mother of all things naturally suggested the legend that they in\nold days abode together, but have since been torn asunder.'\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThat this view of Heaven and Earth is natural to early minds, Mr.\nTylor proves by the presence of the myth of the union and violent\ndivorce of the pair in China.[37] Puang-ku is the Chinese Cronus, or\nTutenganahau. In India,[38] Dyaus and Prithivi, Heaven and Earth, were\nonce united, and were severed by Indra, their own child.\n\nThis, then, is our interpretation of the exploit of Cronus. It is an\nold surviving nature-myth of the severance of Heaven and Earth, a myth\nfound in China, India, New Zealand, as well as in Greece. Of course it\nis not pretended that Chinese and Maoris borrowed from Indians and\nGreeks, or came originally of the same stock. Similar phenomena,\npresenting themselves to be explained by human minds in a similar\nstage of fancy and of ignorance, will account for the parallel myths.\n\nThe second part of the myth of Cronus was, like the first, a\nstumbling-block to the orthodox in Greece. Of the second part we offer\nno explanation beyond the fact that the incidents in the myth are\nalmost universally found among savages, and that, therefore, in Greece\nthey are probably survivals from savagery. The sequel of the myth\nappears to account for nothing, as the first part accounts for the\nseverance of Heaven and Earth. In the sequel a world-wide _Maerchen_,\nor tale, seems to have been attached to Cronus, or attracted into the\ncycle of which he is centre, without any particular reason, beyond the\nlaw which makes detached myths crystallise round any celebrated name.\nTo look further is, perhaps, _chercher raison ou il n'y en a pas_.\n\nThe conclusion of the story of Cronus runs thus: He wedded his sister,\nRhea, and begat children--Demeter, Hera, Hades, Poseidon, and, lastly,\nZeus. 'And mighty Cronus swallowed down each of them, each that came\nto their mother's knees from her holy womb, with this intent, that\nnone other of the proud children of Uranus should hold kingly sway\namong the Immortals.' Cronus showed a ruling father's usual jealousy\nof his heirs. It was a case of Friedrich Wilhelm and Friedrich. But\nCronus (acting in a way natural in a story perhaps first invented by\ncannibals) swallowed his children instead of merely imprisoning them.\nHeaven and Earth had warned him to beware of his heirs, and he could\nthink of no safer plan than that which he adopted. When Rhea was about\nto become the mother of Zeus, she fled to Crete. Here Zeus was born,\nand when Cronus (in pursuit of his usual policy) asked for the baby,\nhe was presented with a stone wrapped up in swaddling bands. After\nswallowing the stone, Cronus was easy in his mind; but Zeus grew up,\nadministered a dose to his father, and compelled him to disgorge. 'The\nstone came forth first, as he had swallowed it last.'[39] The other\nchildren also emerged, all alive and well. Zeus fixed the stone at\nDelphi, where, long after the Christian era, Pausanias saw it.[40] It\nwas not a large stone, Pausanias tells us, and the Delphians used to\nanoint it with oil and wrap it up in wool on feast-days. All Greek\ntemples had their fetich-stones, and each stone had its legend. This\nwas the story of the Delphian stone, and of the fetichism which\nsurvived the early years of Christianity. A very pretty story it is.\nSavages more frequently smear their fetich-stones with red paint than\ndaub them with oil, but the latter, as we learn from Theophrastus'\naccount of the 'superstitious man,' was the Greek ritual.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThis anecdote about Cronus was the stumbling-block of the orthodox\nGreek, the jest of the sceptic, and the butt of the early Christian\ncontroversialists. Found among Bushmen or Australians the narrative\nmight seem rather wild, but it astonishes us still more when it occurs\nin the holy legends of Greece. Our explanation of its presence there\nis simple enough. Like the erratic blocks in a modern plain, like the\nflint-heads in a meadow, the story is a relic of a very distant past.\nThe glacial age left the boulders on the plain, the savage tribes of\nlong ago left the arrow-heads, the period of savage fancy left the\nstory of Cronus and the rites of the fetich-stone. Similar rites are\nstill notoriously practised in the South Sea Islands, in Siberia, in\nIndia and Africa and Melanesia, by savages. And by savages similar\ntales are still told.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe cannot go much lower than the Bushmen, and among Bushman divine\nmyths is room for the 'swallowing trick' attributed to Cronus by\nHesiod. The chief divine character in Bushman myth is the Mantis\ninsect. His adopted daughter is the child of Kwai Hemm, a supernatural\ncharacter, 'the all-devourer.' The Mantis gets his adopted daughter to\ncall the swallower to his aid; but Kwai Hemm swallows the Mantis, the\ngod-insect. As Zeus made his own wife change herself into an insect,\nfor the convenience of swallowing her, there is not much difference\nbetween Bushman and early Greek mythology. Kwai Hemm is killed by a\nstratagem, and all the animals whom he has got outside of, in a long\nand voracious career, troop forth from him alive and well, like the\nswallowed gods from the maw of Cronus.[41] Now, story for story, the\nBushman version is much less offensive than that of Hesiod. But the\nBushman story is just the sort of story we expect from Bushmen,\nwhereas the Hesiodic story is not at all the kind of tale we look for\nfrom Greeks. The explanation is, that the Greeks had advanced out of a\nsavage state of mind and society, but had retained their old myths,\nmyths evolved in the savage stage, and in harmony with that condition\nof fancy. Among the Kaffirs[42] we find the same 'swallow-myth.' The\nIgongqongqo swallows all and sundry; a woman cuts the swallower with a\nknife, and 'people came out, and cattle, and dogs.' In Australia, a\ngod is swallowed. As in the myth preserved by Aristophanes in the\n'Birds,' the Australians believe that birds were the original gods,\nand the eagle, especially, is a great creative power. The Moon was a\nmischievous being, who walked about the world, doing what evil he\ncould. One day he swallowed the eagle-god. The wives of the eagle came\nup, and the Moon asked them where he might find a well. They pointed\nout a well, and, as he drank, they hit the Moon with a stone tomahawk,\nand out flew the eagle.[43] This is oddly like Grimm's tale of 'The\nWolf and the Kids.' The wolf swallowed the kids, their mother cut a\nhole in the wolf, let out the kids, stuffed the wolf with stones, and\nsewed him up again. The wolf went to the well to drink, the weight of\nthe stones pulled him in, and he was drowned. Similar stories are\ncommon among the Red Indians, and Mr. Im Thurn has found them in\nGuiana. How savages all over the world got the idea that men and\nbeasts could be swallowed and disgorged alive, and why they fashioned\nthe idea into a divine myth, it is hard to say. Mr. Tylor, in\n_Primitive Culture_,[44] adds many examples of the narrative. The\nBasutos have it; it occurs some five times in Callaway's _Zula Nursery\nTales_. In Greenland the Eskimo have a shape of the incident, and we\nhave all heard of the escape of Jonah.\n\nIt has been suggested that night, covering up the world, gave the\nfirst idea of the swallowing myth. Now in some of the stories the\nnight is obviously conceived of as a big beast which swallows all\nthings. The notion that night is an animal is entirely in harmony with\nsavage metaphysics. In the opinion of the savage speculator, all\nthings are men and animals. 'Ils se persuadent que non seulement les\nhommes et les autres animaux, mais aussi que toutes les autres choses\nsont animees,' says one of the old Jesuit missionaries in Canada.[45]\n'The wind was formerly a person; he became a bird,' say the Bushmen.\n_G' ooe ka! Kui_ (a very respectable Bushman, whose name seems a little\nhard to pronounce) once saw the wind-person at Haarfontein.\n\nSavages, then, are persuaded that night, sky, cloud, fire, and so\nforth, are only the _schein_, or sensuous appearance, of things that,\nin essence, are men or animals. A good example is the bringing of\nNight to Vanua Lava, by Qat, the 'culture-hero' of Melanesia. At\nfirst it was always day, and people tired of it. Qat heard that Night\nwas at the Torres Islands, and he set forth to get some. Qong (Night)\nreceived Qat well, blackened his eyebrows, showed him Sleep, and sent\nhim off with fowls to bring Dawn after the arrival of Night should\nmake Dawn a necessity. Next day Qat's brothers saw the sun crawl away\nwest, and presently Night came creeping up from the sea. 'What is\nthis?' cried the brothers. 'It is Night,' said Qat; 'sit down, and\nwhen you feel something in your eyes, lie down and keep quiet.' So\nthey went to sleep. 'When Night had lasted long enough, Qat took a\npiece of red obsidian, and cut the darkness, and the Dawn came\nout.'[46]\n\nNight is more or less personal in this tale, and solid enough to be\ncut, so as to let the Dawn out. This savage conception of Night, as\nthe swallower and disgorger, might start the notion of other\nswallowing and disgorging beings. Again the Bushmen, and other savage\npeoples, account for certain celestial phenomena by saying that 'a big\nstar has swallowed his daughter, and spit her out again.' While\nnatural phenomena, explained on savage principles, might give the data\nof the swallow-myth, we must not conclude that all beings to whom the\nstory is attached are, therefore, the Night. On this principle Cronus\nwould be the Night, and so would the wolf in Grimm. For our purposes\nit is enough that the feat of Cronus is a feat congenial to the savage\nfancy and repugnant to the civilised Greeks who found themselves in\npossession of the myth. Beyond this, and beyond the inference that the\nCronus myth was first evolved by people to whom it seemed quite\nnatural, that is, by savages, we do not pretend to go in our\ninterpretation.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTo end our examination of the myth of Cronus, we may compare the\nsolutions offered by scholars. As a rule, these solutions are based on\nthe philological analysis of the names in the story. It will be seen\nthat very various and absolutely inconsistent etymologies and meanings\nof Cronus are suggested by philologists of the highest authority.\nThese contradictions are, unfortunately, rather the rule than the\nexception in the etymological interpretation of myths.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe opinion of Mr. Max Mueller has always a right to the first hearing\nfrom English inquirers. Mr. Mueller, naturally, examines first the name\nof the god whose legend he is investigating. He writes: 'There is no\nsuch being as Kronos in Sanskrit. Kronos did not exist till long after\nZeus in Greece. Zeus was called by the Greeks the son of Time\n(~Kronos~). This is a very simple and very common form of mythological\nexpression. It meant originally, not that time was the origin or\nsource of Zeus, but ~Kronion~ or ~Kronides~ was used in the sense of\n\"connected with time, representing time, existing through all time.\"\nDerivatives in ~-ion~ and ~-ides~ took, in later times, the more\nexclusive meaning of patronymics.... When this (the meaning of\n~Kronides~ as equivalent to Ancient of Days) ceased to be understood,\n... people asked themselves the question, Why is ~Zeus~ called\n~Kronides~? And the natural and almost inevitable answer was, Because\nhe is the son, the offspring of a more ancient god, ~Kronos~. This may\nbe a very old myth in Greece; but the misunderstanding which gave rise\nto it could have happened in Greece only. We cannot expect, therefore,\na god ~Kronos~ in the Veda.' To expect Greek in the Veda would\ncertainly be sanguine. 'When this myth of ~Kronos~ had once been\nstarted, it would roll on irresistibly. If ~Zeus~ had once a father\ncalled ~Kronos~, ~Kronos~ must have a wife.' It is added, as\nconfirmation, that 'the name of ~Kronides~ belongs originally to Zeus\nonly, and not to his later' (in Hesiod elder) 'brothers, Poseidon and\nHades.'[47]\n\nMr. Mueller says, in his famous essay on 'Comparative Mythology'[48]:\n'How can we imagine that a few generations before that time' (the age\nof Solon) 'the highest notions of the Godhead among the Greeks were\nadequately expressed by the story of Uranus maimed by Kronos,--of\nKronos eating his children, swallowing a stone, and vomiting out alive\nhis whole progeny? Among the lowest tribes of Africa and America, we\nhardly find anything more hideous and revolting.' We have found a good\ndeal of the sort in Africa and America, where it seems not out of\nplace.\n\nOne objection to Mr. Mueller's theory is, that it makes the mystery no\nclearer. When Greeks were so advanced in Hellenism that their own\nearly language had become obsolete and obscure, they invented the god\n~Kronos~, to account for the patronymic (as they deemed it)\n~Kronides~, son of ~Kronos~. But why did they tell such savage and\nrevolting stories about the god they had invented? Mr. Mueller only\nsays the myth 'would roll on irresistibly.' But why did the rolling\nmyth gather such very strange moss? That is the problem; and while Mr.\nMueller's hypothesis accounts for the existence of a god called\n~Kronos~, it does not even attempt to show how full-blown Greeks came\nto believe such hideous stories about the god.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThis theory, therefore, is of no practical service. The theory of\nAdalbert Kuhn, one of the most famous of Sanskrit scholars, and author\nof _Die Herabkunft des Feuers_, is directly opposed to the ideas of\nMr. Mueller. In Cronus, Mr. Mueller recognises a god who could only have\ncome into being among Greeks, when the Greeks had begun to forget the\noriginal meaning of 'derivatives in ~-ion~ and ~-ides~.' Kuhn, on the\nother hand, derives ~Kronos~ from the same root as the Sanskrit\n_Krana_.[49] _Krana_ means, it appears, _der fuer sich schaffende_, he\nwho creates for himself, and Cronus is compared to the Indian\nPragapati, about whom even more abominable stories are told than the\nmyths which circulate to the prejudice of Cronus. According to Kuhn,\nthe 'swallow-myth' means that Cronus, the lord of light and dark\npowers, swallows the divinities of light. But in place of Zeus (that\nis, according to Kuhn, of the daylight sky) he swallows a stone, that\nis the sun. When he disgorges the stone (the sun), he also disgorges\nthe gods of light whom he had swallowed.\n\nI confess that I cannot understand these distinctions between the\nfather and lord of light and dark (Cronus) and the beings he\nswallowed. Nor do I find it easy to believe that myth-making man took\nall those distinctions, or held those views of the Creator. However,\nthe chief thing to note is that Mr. Mueller's etymology and Kuhn's\netymology of Cronus can hardly both be true, which, as their systems\nboth depend on etymological analysis, is somewhat discomfiting.\n\nThe next etymological theory is the daring speculation of Mr. Brown.\nIn _The Great Dionysiak Myth_[50] Mr. Brown writes: 'I regard Kronos\nas the equivalent of Karnos, Karnaios, Karnaivis, the Horned God;\nAssyrian, KaRNu; Hebrew, KeReN, horn; Hellenic, KRoNos, or KaRNos.'\nMr. Brown seems to think that Cronus is 'the ripening power of\nharvest,' and also 'a wily savage god,' in which opinion one quite\nagrees with him. Why the name of Cronus should mean 'horned,' when he\nis never represented with horns, it is hard to say. But among the\nvarious foreign gods in whom the Greeks recognised their own Cronus,\none Hea, 'regarded by Berosos as Kronos,' seems to have been\n'horn-wearing.'[51] Horns are lacking in Seb and Il, if not in Baal\nHamon, though Mr. Brown would like to behorn them.\n\nLet us now turn to Preller.[52] According to Preller, ~Kronos~ is\nconnected with ~kraino~, to fulfil, to bring to completion. The\nharvest month, the month of ripening and fulfilment, was called\n~kronion~ in some parts of Greece, and the jolly harvest-feast, with\nits memory of Saturn's golden days, was named ~kronia~. The sickle of\nCronus, the sickle of harvest-time, works in well with this\nexplanation, and we have a kind of pun in Homer which points in the\ndirection of Preller's derivation from ~kraino~:--\n\n    ~oud' ara po hoi epekraiaine Kronion~,\n\nand in Sophocles ('Tr.' 126):--\n\n    ~ho panta krainon Basileus Kronidas~.\n\nPreller illustrates the mutilation of Uranus by the Maori tale of\nTutenganahau. The child-swallowing he connects with Punic and\nPhoenician influence, and Semitic sacrifices of men and children.\nPorphyry[53] speaks of human sacrifices to Cronus in Rhodes, and the\nGreeks recognised Cronus in the Carthaginian god to whom children were\noffered up.\n\nHartung[54] takes Cronus, when he mutilates Uranus, to be the fire of\nthe sun, scorching the sky of spring. This, again, is somewhat out of\naccord with Schwartz's idea, that Cronus is the storm-god, the\ncloud-swallowing deity, his sickle the rainbow, and the blood of\nUranus the lightning.[55] According to Prof. Sayce, again,[56] the\nblood-drops of Uranus are rain-drops. Cronus is the sun-god, piercing\nthe dark cloud, which is just the reverse of Schwartz's idea. Prof.\nSayce sees points in common between the legend of Moloch, or of Baal\nunder the name of Moloch, and the myth of Cronus. But Moloch, he\nthinks, is not a god of Phoenician origin, but a deity borrowed from\n'the primitive Accadian population of Babylonia.' Mr. Isaac Taylor,\nagain, explains Cronus as the sky which swallows and reproduces the\nstars. The story of the sickle may be derived from the crescent moon,\nthe 'silver sickle,' or from a crescent-shaped piece of meteoric\niron--for, in this theory, the fetich-stone of Delphi is a piece of\nthat substance.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt will be observed that any one of these theories, if accepted, is\nmuch more 'minute in detail' than our humble suggestion. He who adopts\nany one of them, knows all about it. He knows that Cronus is a purely\nGreek god, or that he is connected with the Sanskrit _Krana_, which\nTiele,[57] unhappily, says is 'a very dubious word.' Or the\nmythologist may be quite confident that Cronus is neither Greek nor,\nin any sense, Sanskrit, but Phoenician. A not less adequate\ninterpretation assigns him ultimately to Accadia. While the inquirer\nwho can choose a system and stick to it knows the exact nationality of\nCronus, he is also well acquainted with his character as a nature-god.\nHe may be Time, or perhaps he is the Summer Heat, and a horned god; or\nhe is the harvest-god, or the god of storm and darkness, or the\nmidnight sky,--the choice is wide; or he is the lord of dark and\nlight, and his children are the stars, the clouds, the summer months,\nthe light-powers, or what you will. The mythologist has only to make\nhis selection.\n\nThe system according to which we tried to interpret the myth is less\n_ondoyant et divers_. We do not even pretend to explain everything. We\ndo not guess at the meaning and root of the word Cronus. We only find\nparallels to the myth among savages, whose mental condition is fertile\nin such legends. And we only infer that the myth of Cronus was\noriginally evolved by persons also in the savage intellectual\ncondition. The survival we explain as, in a previous essay, we\nexplained the survival of the bull-roarer, by the conservatism of the\nreligious instinct.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[31] _New Zealand_, Taylor, pp. 119-121. _Die heilige Sage der\nPolynesier_, Bastian, pp. 36-39.\n\n[32] A crowd of similar myths, in one of which a serpent severs Heaven\nand Earth, are printed in Turner's _Samoa_.\n\n[33] The translation used is Jowett's.\n\n[34] _Theog._, 166.\n\n[35] Apollodorus, i. 15.\n\n[36] _Primitive Culture_, i. 325.\n\n[37] Pauthier, _Livres sacres de l'Orient_, p. 19.\n\n[38] Muir's _Sanskrit Texts_, v. 23. Aitareya Brahmana.\n\n[39] Hesiod, _Theog._, 497.\n\n[40] Paus., x. 24.\n\n[41] Bleek, _Bushman Folklore_, pp. 6-8.\n\n[42] Theal, _Kaffir Folklore_, pp. 161-167.\n\n[43] Brough Smyth, i. 432-433.\n\n[44] i. 338.\n\n[45] _Rel. de la Nouvelle-France_ (1636), p. 114.\n\n[46] Codrington, in _Journal Anthrop. Inst._, Feb., 1881. There is a\nBreton _Maerchen_ of a land where people had to 'bring the Dawn' daily\nwith carts and horses. A boy, whose sole property was a cock, sold it\nto the people of this country for a large sum, and now the cock brings\nthe Dawn, with a great saving of trouble and expense. The _Maerchen_ is\na survival of the state of mind of the Solomon Islanders.\n\n[47] _Selected Essays_, i. 460.\n\n[48] _Ibid._, i. 311.\n\n[49] _Ueber Entwicklungsstufen der Mythenbildung_ (1874), l. 148.\n\n[50] ii. 127.\n\n[51] _G. D. M._, ii. 127, 129.\n\n[52] _Gr. My._, i. 144.\n\n[53] _De Abst._, ii. 202, 197.\n\n[54] _Rel. und Myth._, ii. 3.\n\n[55] _Ursprung der Myth._, pp. 133, 1, 5, 139, 149.\n\n[56] _Contemporary Review_, Sept., 1883.\n\n[57] _Rev. de l'Hist. Rel._, i. 179.\n\n\n\n\n_CUPID, PSYCHE, AND THE 'SUN-FROG.'_\n\n\n'Once upon a time there lived a king and a queen,' says the old woman\nin Apuleius, beginning the tale of Cupid and Psyche with that ancient\nformula which has been dear to so many generations of children. In one\nshape or other the tale of Cupid and Psyche, of the woman who is\nforbidden to see or to name her husband, of the man with the vanished\nfairy bride, is known in most lands, 'even among barbarians.'\nAccording to the story the mystic prohibition is always broken: the\nhidden face is beheld; light is brought into the darkness; the\nforbidden name is uttered; the bride is touched with the tabooed\nmetal, iron, and the union is ended. Sometimes the pair are re-united,\nafter long searchings and wanderings; sometimes they are severed for\never. Such are the central situations in tales like that of Cupid and\nPsyche.\n\nIn the attempt to discover how the ideas on which this myth is based\ncame into existence, we may choose one of two methods. We may confine\nour investigations to the Aryan peoples, among whom the story occurs\nboth in the form of myth and of household tale. Again, we may look for\nthe shapes of the legend which hide, like Peau d'Ane in disguise,\namong the rude kraals and wigwams, and in the strange and scanty garb\nof savages. If among savages we find both narratives like Cupid and\nPsyche, and also customs and laws out of which the myth might have\narisen, we may provisionally conclude that similar customs once\nexisted among the civilised races who possess the tale, and that from\nthese sprang the early forms of the myth.\n\nIn accordance with the method hitherto adopted, we shall prefer the\nsecond plan, and pursue our quest beyond the limits of the Aryan\npeoples.\n\nThe oldest literary shape of the tale of Psyche and her lover is found\nin the Rig Veda (x. 95). The characters of a singular and cynical\ndialogue in that poem are named Urvasi and Pururavas. The former is an\nApsaras, a kind of fairy or sylph, the mistress (and a _folle\nmaitresse_, too) of Pururavas, a mortal man.[58] In the poem Urvasi\nremarks that when she dwelt among men she 'ate once a day a small\npiece of butter, and therewith well satisfied went away.' This\nslightly reminds one of the common idea that the living may not eat in\nthe land of the dead, and of Persephone's tasting the pomegranate in\nHades.\n\nOf the dialogue in the Rig Veda it may be said, in the words of Mr.\nToots, that 'the language is coarse and the meaning is obscure.' We\nonly gather that Urvasi, though she admits her sensual content in the\nsociety of Pururavas, is leaving him 'like the first of the dawns';\nthat she 'goes home again, hard to be caught, like the winds.' She\ngives her lover some hope, however--that the gods promise immortality\neven to him, 'the kinsman of Death' as he is. 'Let thine offspring\nworship the gods with an oblation; in Heaven shalt thou too have joy\nof the festival.'\n\nIn the Rig Veda, then, we dimly discern a parting between a mortal man\nand an immortal bride, and a promise of reconciliation.\n\nThe story, of which this Vedic poem is a partial dramatisation, is\ngiven in the Brahmana of the Yajur Veda. Mr. Max Mueller has translated\nthe passage.[59] According to the Brahmana, 'Urvasi, a kind of fairy,\nfell in love with Pururavas, and when she met him she said: Embrace me\nthree times a day, but never against my will, and let me never see you\nwithout your royal garments, _for this is the manner of women_.'[60]\nThe Gandharvas, a spiritual race, kinsmen of Urvasi, thought she had\nlingered too long among men. They therefore plotted some way of\nparting her from Pururavas. Her covenant with her lord declared that\nshe was never to see him naked. If that compact were broken she would\nbe compelled to leave him. To make Pururavas break this compact the\nGandharvas stole a lamb from beside Urvasi's bed: Pururavas sprang up\nto rescue the lamb, and, in a flash of lightning, Urvasi saw him\nnaked, contrary to the _manner of women_. She vanished. He sought her\nlong, and at last came to a lake where she and her fairy friends were\nplaying _in the shape of birds_. Urvasi saw Pururavas, revealed\nherself to him, and, according to the Brahmana, part of the strange\nVedic dialogue was now spoken. Urvasi promised to meet him on the last\nnight of the year: a son was to be the result of the interview. Next\nday, her kinsfolk, the Gandharvas, offered Pururavas the wish of his\nheart. He wished to be one of them. They then initiated him into the\nmode of kindling a certain sacred fire, after which he became immortal\nand dwelt among the Gandharvas.\n\nIt is highly characteristic of the Indian mind that the story should\nbe thus worked into connection with ritual. In the same way the\nBhagavata Purana has a long, silly, and rather obscene narrative about\nthe sacrifice offered by Pururavas, and the new kind of sacred fire.\nMuch the same ritual tale is found in the Vishnu Purana (iv. 6, 19).\n\nBefore attempting to offer our own theory of the legend, we must\nexamine the explanations presented by scholars. The philological\nmethod of dealing with myths is well known. The hypothesis is that the\nnames in a myth are 'stubborn things,' and that, as the whole\nnarrative has probably arisen from forgetfulness of the meaning of\nlanguage, the secret of a myth must be sought in analysis of the\nproper names of the persons. On this principle Mr. Max Mueller\ninterprets the myth of Urvasi and Pururavas, their loves, separation,\nand reunion. Mr. Mueller says that the story 'expresses the identity\nof the morning dawn and the evening twilight.'[61] To prove this, the\nnames are analysed. It is Mr. Mueller's object to show that though,\neven in the Veda, Urvasi and Pururavas are names of persons, they were\noriginally 'appellations'; and that Urvasi meant 'dawn,' and Pururavas\n'sun.' Mr. Mueller's opinion as to the etymological sense of the name\nwould be thought decisive, naturally, by lay readers, if an opposite\nopinion were not held by that other great philologist and comparative\nmythologist, Adalbert Kuhn. Admitting that 'the etymology of Urvasi is\ndifficult,' Mr. Mueller derives it from '_uru_, wide (~eury~), and a\nroot _as_ = to pervade.' Now the dawn is 'widely pervading,' and has,\nin Sanskrit, the epithet uruki, 'far-going.' Mr. Mueller next assumes\nthat 'Eurykyde,' 'Eurynome,' 'Eurydike,' and other heroic Greek female\nnames, are 'names of the dawn'; but this, it must be said, is merely\nan assumption of his school. The main point of the argument is that\nUrvasi means 'far-going,' and that 'the far and wide splendour of\ndawn' is often spoken of in the Veda. 'However, the best proof that\nUrvasi was the dawn is the legend told of her and of her love to\nPururavas, a story that is true only of the sun and the dawn' (i.\n407).\n\nWe shall presently see that a similar story is told of persons in whom\nthe dawn can scarcely be recognised, so that 'the best proof' is not\nvery good.\n\nThe name of Pururavas, again, is 'an appropriate name for a solar\nhero.' ... Pururavas meant the same as ~Polydeukes~, 'endowed with\nmuch light,' for though _rava_ is generally used of sound, yet the\nroot _ru_, which means originally 'to cry,' is also applied to colour,\nin the sense of a loud or crying colour, that is, red.[62] It is\ninteresting to learn that our Aryan fathers spoke of 'loud colours,'\nand were so sensitive as to think violet 'loud.' Besides, Pururavas\ncalls himself Vasistha, which, as we know, is a name of the sun; and\nif he is called Aido, the son of Ida, the same name is elsewhere\ngiven[63] to Agni, the fire. 'The conclusion of the argument is that\nantiquity spoke of the naked sun, and of the chaste dawn hiding her\nface when she had seen her husband. Yet she says she will come again.\nAnd after the sun has travelled through the world in search of his\nbeloved, when he comes to the threshold of Death and is going to end\nhis solitary life, she appears again, in the gloaming, the same as the\ndawn, as Eos in Homer, begins and ends the day, and she carries him\naway to the golden seats of the Immortals.'[64]\n\nKuhn objects to all this explanation, partly on what we think the\ninadequate ground that there is no necessary connection between the\nstory of Urvasi (thus interpreted) and the ritual of sacred\nfire-lighting. Connections of that sort were easily invented at random\nby the compilers of the Brahmanas in their existing form. Coming to\nthe analysis of names, Kuhn finds in Urvasi 'a weakening of Urvanki\n(_uru_ + _anc_), like _yuvaca_ from _yuvanka_, Latin _juvencus_; ...\nthe accent is of no decisive weight.' Kuhn will not be convinced that\nPururavas is the sun, and is unmoved by the ingenious theory of 'a\ncrying colour,' denoted by his name, and the inference, supported by\nsuch words as _rufus_, that crying colours are red, and therefore\nappropriate names of the red sun. The connection between Pururavas and\nAgni, fire, is what appeals to Kuhn--and, in short, where Mr. Mueller\nsees a myth of sun and dawn, Kuhn recognises a fire-myth. Roth, again\n(whose own name means _red_), far from thinking that Urvasi is 'the\nchaste dawn,' interprets her name as _die geile_, that is, 'lecherous,\nlascivious, lewd, wanton, obscene'; while Pururavas, as 'the Roarer,'\nsuggests 'the Bull in rut.' In accordance with these views Roth\nexplains the myth in a fashion of his own.[65]\n\nHere, then, as Kuhn says, 'we have three essentially different modes\nof interpreting the myth,'[66] all three founded on philological\nanalysis of the names in the story. No better example could be given\nto illustrate the weakness of the philological method. In the first\nplace, that method relies on names as the primitive relics and germs\nof the tale, although the tale may occur where the names have never\nbeen heard, and though the names are, presumably, late additions to a\nstory in which the characters were originally anonymous. Again, the\nmost illustrious etymologists differ absolutely about the true sense\nof the names. Kuhn is disposed to see fire everywhere, and\nfire-myths; Mr. Mueller to see dawn and dawn-myths; Schwartz to see\nstorm and storm-myths, and so on. As the orthodox teachers are thus at\nvariance, so that there is no safety in orthodoxy, we may attempt to\nuse our heterodox method.\n\nNone of the three scholars whose views we have glanced at--neither\nRoth, Kuhn, nor Mr. Mueller--lays stress on the saying of Urvasi,\n'never let me see you without your royal garments, _for this is the\ncustom of women_.'[67] To our mind, these words contain the gist of\nthe myth. There must have been, at some time, a custom which forbade\nwomen to see their husbands without their garments, or the words have\nno meaning. If any custom of this kind existed, a story might well be\nevolved to give a sanction to the law. 'You must never see your\nhusband naked: think what happened to Urvasi--she vanished clean\naway!' This is the kind of warning which might be given. If the\ncustomary prohibition had grown obsolete, the punishment might well be\nassigned to a being of another, a spiritual race, in which old human\nideas lingered, as the neolithic dread of iron lingers in the Welsh\nfairies.\n\nOur method will be, to prove the existence of singular rules of\netiquette, corresponding to the etiquette accidentally infringed by\nPururavas. We shall then investigate stories of the same character as\nthat of Urvasi and Pururavas, in which the infringement of the\netiquette is chastised. It will be seen that, in most cases, the bride\nis of a peculiar and perhaps supernatural race. Finally, the tale of\nUrvasi will be taken up again, will be shown to conform in character\nto the other stories examined, and will be explained as a myth told to\nillustrate, or sanction, a nuptial etiquette.\n\nThe lives of savages are bound by the most closely-woven fetters of\ncustom. The simplest acts are 'tabooed,' a strict code regulates all\nintercourse. Married life, especially, moves in the strangest fetters.\nThere will be nothing remarkable in the wide distribution of the myth\nturning on nuptial etiquette, if this law of nuptial etiquette proves\nto be also widely distributed. That it is widely distributed we now\npropose to demonstrate by examples.\n\nThe custom of the African people of the kingdom of Futa is, or was,\neven stricter than the Vedic _custom of women_--'wives never permit\ntheir husbands to see them unveiled for three years after their\nmarriage.'[68]\n\nIn his _Travels to Timbuctoo_ (i. 94), Caillie says that the\nbridegroom 'is not allowed to see his intended during the day.' He has\na tabooed hut apart, and 'if he is obliged to come out he covers his\nface.' He 'remains with his wife only till daybreak'--like Cupid--and\nflees, like Cupid, before the light. Among the Australians the chief\ndeity, if deity such a being can be called, Pundjel, 'has a wife\nwhose face he has never seen,' probably in compliance with some\nprimaeval etiquette or taboo.[69]\n\nAmong the Yorubas 'conventional modesty forbids a woman to speak to\nher husband, or even to see him, if it can be avoided.'[70] Of the\nIroquois Lafitau says: 'Ils n'oscent aller dans les cabanes\nparticulieres ou habitent leurs epouses que durant l'obscurite de la\nnuit.'[71] The Circassian women live on distant terms with their lords\ntill they become mothers.[72] Similar examples of reserve are reported\nto be customary among the Fijians.\n\nIn backward parts of Europe a strange custom forbids the bride to\nspeak to her lord, as if in memory of a time when husband and wife\nwere always of alien tribes, and, as among the Caribs, spoke different\nlanguages.\n\nIn the Bulgarian 'Volkslied,' the Sun marries Grozdanka, a mortal\ngirl. Her mother addresses her thus:--\n\n    Grozdanka, mother's treasure mine,\n    For nine long years I nourished thee,\n    For nine months see thou do not speak\n    To thy first love that marries thee.\n\nM. Dozon, who has collected the Bulgarian songs, says that this custom\nof prolonged silence on the part of the bride is very common in\nBulgaria, though it is beginning to yield to a sense of the\nludicrous.[73] In Sparta and in Crete, as is well known, the\nbridegroom was long the victim of a somewhat similar taboo, and was\nonly permitted to seek the company of his wife secretly, and in the\ndark, like the Iroquois described by Lafitau.\n\nHerodotus tells us (i. 146) that some of the old Ionian colonists\n'brought no women with them, but took wives of the women of the\nCarians, whose fathers they had slain. Therefore the women made a law\nfor themselves, and handed it down to their daughters, that they\nshould never sit at meat with their husbands, and _that none should\never call her husband by his name_.' In precisely the same way, in\nZululand the wife may not mention her husband's name, just as in the\nWelsh fairy tale the husband may not even know the name of his fairy\nbride, on pain of losing her for ever. These ideas about names, and\nfreakish ways of avoiding the use of names, mark the childhood of\nlanguages, according to Mr. Max Mueller,[74] and, therefore, the\nchildhood of Society. The Kaffirs call this etiquette 'Hlonipa.' It\napplies to women as well as men. A Kaffir bride is not called by her\nown name in her husband's village, but is spoken of as 'mother of so\nand so,' even before she has born a child. The universal superstition\nabout names is at the bottom of this custom. The Aleutian Islanders,\naccording to Dall, are quite distressed when obliged to speak to their\nwives in the presence of others. The Fijians did not know where to\nlook when missionaries hinted that a man might live under the same\nroof as his wife.[75] Among the Turkomans, for six months, a year, or\ntwo years, a husband is only allowed to visit his wife by stealth.\n\nThe number of these instances could probably be increased by a little\nresearch. Our argument is that the widely distributed myths in which a\nhusband or a wife transgresses some 'custom'--sees the other's face or\nbody, or utters the forbidden name--might well have arisen as tales\nillustrating the punishment of breaking the rule. By a very curious\ncoincidence, a Breton sailor's tale of the 'Cupid and Psyche' class is\nconfessedly founded on the existence of the rule of nuptial\netiquette.[76]\n\nIn this story the son of a Boulogne pilot marries the daughter of the\nKing of Naz--wherever that may be. In Naz a man is never allowed to\nsee the face of his wife till she has born him a child--a modification\nof the Futa rule. The inquisitive French husband unveils his wife,\nand, like Psyche in Apuleius, drops wax from a candle on her cheek.\nWhen the pair return to Naz, the king of that country discovers the\noffence of the husband, and, by the aid of his magicians, transforms\nthe Frenchman into a monster. Here we have the old formula--the\ninfringement of a 'taboo,' and the magical punishment--adapted to the\nideas of Breton peasantry. The essential point of the story, for our\npurpose, is that the veiling of the bride is 'the custom of women,' in\nthe mysterious land of Naz. 'C'est l'usage du pays: les maris ne\nvoient leurs femmes sans voile que lorsqu'elles sont devenues meres.'\nNow our theory of the myth of Urvasi is simply this: 'the custom of\nwomen,' which Pururavas transgresses, is probably a traditional Aryan\nlaw of nuptial etiquette, _l'usage du pays_, once prevalent among the\npeople of India.\n\nIf our view be correct, then several rules of etiquette, and not one\nalone, will be illustrated in the stories which we suppose the rules\nto have suggested. In the case of Urvasi and Pururavas, the rule was,\nnot to see the husband naked. In 'Cupid and Psyche,' the husband was\nnot to be looked upon at all. In the well-known myth of Melusine, the\nbride is not to be seen naked. Melusine tells her lover that she will\nonly abide with him _dum ipsam nudam non viderit_.[77] The same taboo\noccurs in a Dutch _Maerchen_.[78]\n\nWe have now to examine a singular form of the myth, in which the\nstrange bride is not a fairy, or spiritual being, but an animal. In\nthis class of story the husband is usually forbidden to perform some\nact which will recall to the bride the associations of her old animal\nexistence. The converse of the tale is the well-known legend of the\nForsaken Merman. The king of the sea permits his human wife to go to\nchurch. The ancient sacred associations are revived, and the woman\nreturns no more.\n\n    She will not come though you call all day\n    Come away, come away.\n\nNow, in the tales of the animal bride, it is her associations with her\nformer life among the beasts that are not to be revived, and when they\nare re-awakened by the commission of some act which she has\nforbidden, or the neglect of some precaution which she has enjoined,\nshe, like Urvasi, disappears.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe best known example of this variant of the tale is the story of\nBheki, in Sanskrit. Mr. Max Mueller has interpreted the myth in\naccordance with his own method.[79] His difficulty is to account for\nthe belief that a king might marry a frog. Our ancestors, he remarks,\n'were not idiots,' how then could they tell such a story? We might\nreply that our ancestors, if we go far enough back, were savages, and\nthat such stories are the staple of savage myth. Mr. Mueller, however,\nholds that an accidental corruption of language reduced Aryan fancy to\nthe savage level. He explains the corruption thus: 'We find, in\nSanskrit, that Bheki, the frog, was a beautiful girl, and that one\nday, when sitting near a well, she was discovered by a king, who asked\nher to be his wife. She consented, _on condition that he should never\nshow her a drop of water_. One day, being tired, she asked the king\nfor water; the king forgot his promise, brought water, and Bheki\ndisappeared.' This myth, Mr. Mueller holds, 'began with a short saying,\nsuch as that \"Bheki, the sun, will die at the sight of water,\" as we\nshould say that the sun will set, when it approaches the water from\nwhich it rose in the morning.' But how did the sun come to be called\nBheki, 'the frog'? Mr. Mueller supposes that this name was given to the\nsun by some poet or fisherman. He gives no evidence for the following\nstatement: 'It can be shown that \"frog\" was used as a name for the\nsun. Now at sunrise and sunset, when the sun was squatting on the\nwater, it was called the \"frog.\"' At what historical period the\nSanskrit-speaking race was settled in seats where the sun rose and set\nin water, we do not know, and 'chapter and verse' are needed for the\nstatement that 'frog' was actually a name of the sun. Mr. Mueller's\nargument, however, is that the sun was called 'the frog,' that people\nforgot that the frog and sun were identical, and that Frog, or Bheki,\nwas mistaken for the name of a girl to whom was applied the old saw\nabout dying at sight of water. 'And so,' says Mr. Mueller, 'the change\nfrom sun to frog, and from frog to man, which was at first due to the\nmere spell of language, would in our nursery tales be ascribed to\nmiraculous charms more familiar to a later age.' As a matter of fact,\nmagical metamorphoses are infinitely more familiar to the lowest\nsavages than to people in a 'later age.' Magic, as Castren observes,\n'belongs to the lowest known stages of civilisation.' Mr. Mueller's\ntheory, however, is this--that a Sanskrit-speaking people, living\nwhere the sun rose out of and set in some ocean, called the sun, as he\ntouched the water, Bheki, the frog, and said he would die at the sight\nof water. They ceased to call the sun the frog, or Bheki, but kept the\nsaying, 'Bheki will die at sight of water.' Not knowing who or what\nBheki might be, they took her for a frog, who also was a pretty wench.\nLastly, they made the story of Bheki's distinguished wedding and\nmysterious disappearance. For this interpretation, historical and\nlinguistic evidence is not offered. When did a Sanskrit-speaking race\nlive beside a great sea? How do we know that 'frog' was used as a name\nfor 'sun'?\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe have already given our explanation. To the savage intellect, man\nand beast are on a level, and all savage myth makes men descended from\nbeasts; while stories of the loves of gods in bestial shape, or the\nunions of men and animals, incessantly occur. 'Unnatural' as these\nnotions seem to us, no ideas are more familiar to savages, and none\nrecur more frequently in Indo-Aryan, Scandinavian, and Greek\nmythology. An extant tribe in North-West America still claims descent\nfrom a frog. The wedding of Bheki and the king is a survival, in\nSanskrit, of a tale of this kind. Lastly, Bheki disappears, when her\nassociations with her old amphibious life are revived in the manner\nshe had expressly forbidden.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOur interpretation may be supported by an Ojibway parallel. A hunter\nnamed Otter-heart, camping near a beaver lodge, found a pretty girl\nloitering round his fire. She keeps his wigwam in order, and 'lays his\nblanket near the deerskin she had laid for herself. \"Good,\" he\nmuttered, \"this is my wife.\"' She refuses to eat the beavers he has\nshot, but at night he hears a noise, '_krch, krch_, as if beavers were\ngnawing wood.' He sees, by the glimmer of the fire, his wife nibbling\nbirch twigs. In fact, the good little wife is a beaver, as the pretty\nIndian girl was a frog. The pair lived happily till spring came and\nthe snow melted and the streams ran full. Then his wife implored the\nhunter to build her a bridge over every stream and river, that she\nmight cross dry-footed. 'For,' she said, 'if my feet touch water, this\nwould at once cause thee great sorrow.' The hunter did as she bade\nhim, but left unbridged one tidy runnel. The wife stumbled into the\nwater, and, as soon as her foot was wet, she immediately resumed her\nold shape as a beaver, her son became a beaverling, and the brooklet,\nchanging to a roaring river, bore them to the lake. Once the hunter\nsaw his wife again among her beast kin. 'To thee I sacrificed all,'\nshe said, 'and I only asked thee to help me dry-footed over the\nwaters. Thou didst cruelly neglect this. Now I must remain for ever\nwith my people.'\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThis tale was told to Kohl by 'an old insignificant squaw among the\nOjibways.'[80] Here we have a precise parallel to the tale of Bheki,\nthe frog-bride, and here the reason of the prohibition to touch water\nis made perfectly unmistakable. The touch magically revived the\nbride's old animal life with the beavers. Or was the Indian name for\nbeaver (_temakse_) once a name for the sun?\n\nA curious variant of this widely distributed _Maerchen_ of the animal\nbride is found in the mythical genealogy of the Raja of Chutia Nagpur,\na chief of the Naga, or snake race. It is said that Raja Janameja\nprepared a _yajnya_, or great malevolently magical incantation, to\ndestroy all the people of the serpent race. To prevent this\nannihilation, the supernatural being, Pundarika Nag, took a human\nform, and became the husband of the beautiful Parvati, daughter of a\nBrahman. But Pundarika Nag, being a serpent by nature, could not\ndivest himself, even in human shape, of his forked tongue and venomed\nbreath. And, just as Urvasi could not abide with her mortal lover,\nafter he transgressed the prohibition to appear before her naked, so\nPundarika Nag was compelled by fate to leave his bride, if she asked\nhim any questions about his disagreeable peculiarities. She did, at\nlast, ask questions, in circumstances which made Pundarika believe\nthat he was bound to answer her. Now the curse came upon him, he\nplunged into a pool, like the beaver, and vanished. His wife became\nthe mother of the serpent Rajas of Chutia Nagpur. Pundarika Nag, in\nhis proper form as a great hooded snake, guarded his first-born child.\nThe crest of the house is a hooded snake with human face.[81]\n\nHere, then, we have many examples of the disappearance of the bride or\nbridegroom in consequence of infringement of various mystic rules.\nSometimes the beloved one is seen when he or she should not be seen.\nSometimes, as in a Maori story, the bride vanishes merely because she\nis in a bad temper.[82] Among the Red Men, as in Sanskrit, the taboo\non water is broken, with the usual results. Now for an example in\nwhich the rule against using _names_ is infringed.[83]\n\nThis formula constantly occurs in the Welsh fairy tales published by\nProfessor Rhys.[84] Thus the heir of Corwrion fell in love with a\nfairy: 'They were married on the distinct understanding that the\nhusband was not to know her name, ... and was not to strike her with\niron, on pain of her leaving him at once.' Unluckily the man once\ntossed her a bridle, the iron bit touched the wife, and 'she at once\nflew through the air, and plunged headlong into Corwrion Lake.'\n\nA number of tales turning on the same incident are published in\n_Cymmrodor_, v. i. In these we have either the taboo on the name, or\nthe taboo on the touch of iron. In a widely diffused superstition iron\n'drives away devils and ghosts,' according to the Scholiast on the\neleventh book of the _Odyssey_, and the Oriental Djinn also flee from\niron.[85] Just as water is fatal to the Aryan frog-bride and to the\nRed Indian beaver-wife, restoring them to their old animal forms, so\nthe magic touch of iron breaks love between the Welshman and his fairy\nmistress, the representative of the stone age.\n\nIn many tales of fairy-brides, they are won by a kind of force. The\nlover in the familiar Welsh and German _Maerchen_ sees the swan-maidens\nthrow off their swan plumage and dance naked. He steals the\nfeather-garb of one of them, and so compels her to his love. Finally,\nshe leaves him, in anger, or because he has broken some taboo. Far\nfrom being peculiar to Aryan mythology, this legend occurs, as Mr.\nFarrer has shown,[86] in Algonquin and Bornoese tradition. The Red\nIndian story told by Schoolcraft in his _Algic Researches_ is most\nlike the Aryan version, but has some native peculiarities. Wampee was\na great hunter, who, on the lonely prairie, once heard strains of\nmusic. Looking up he saw a speck in the sky: the speck drew nearer and\nnearer, and proved to be a basket containing twelve heavenly maidens.\nThey reached the earth and began to dance, inflaming the heart of\nWampee with love. But Wampee could not draw near the fairy girls in\nhis proper form without alarming them. Like Zeus in his love\nadventures, Wampee exercised the medicine-man's power of\nmetamorphosing himself. He assumed the form of a mouse, approached\nunobserved, and caught one of the dancing maidens. After living with\nWampee for some time she wearied of earth, and, by virtue of a 'mystic\nchain of verse,' she ascended again to her heavenly home.\n\nNow is there any reason to believe that this incident was once part of\nthe myth of Pururavas and Urvasi? Was the fairy-love, Urvasi,\noriginally caught and held by Pururavas among her naked and struggling\ncompanions? Though this does not appear to have been much noticed, it\nseems to follow from a speech of Pururavas in the Vedic dialogue[87]\n(x. 95, 8, 9). Mr. Max Mueller translates thus: 'When I, the mortal,\nthrew my arms round those flighty immortals, they trembled away from\nme like a trembling doe, like horses that kick against the cart.'[88]\nLudwig's rendering suits our view--that Pururavas is telling how he\nfirst caught Urvasi--still better: 'When I, the mortal, held converse\nwith the immortals who had laid aside their raiment, like slippery\nserpents they glided from me, like horses yoked to the car.' These\nwords would well express the adventure of a lover among the naked\nflying swan-maidens, an adventure familiar to the Red Men as to\nPersian legends of the Peris.\n\nTo end our comparison of myths like the tale of 'Cupid and Psyche,' we\nfind an example among the Zulus. Here[89] the mystic lover came in\nwhen all was dark, and felt the damsel's face. After certain rites,\n'in the morning he went away, he speaking continually, the girl not\nseeing him. During all those days he would not allow the girl (_sic_),\nwhen she said she would light a fire. Finally, after a magical\nceremony, he said, \"Light the fire!\" and stood before her revealed, a\nshining shape.' This has a curious resemblance to the myth of Cupid\nand Psyche; but a more curious detail remains. In the Zulu story of\nUkcombekcansini, the friends of a bride break a taboo and kill a\ntabooed animal. Instantly, like Urvasi and her companions in the Yajur\nVeda, the bride and her maidens disappear _and are turned into\nbirds_![90] They are afterwards surprised in human shape, and the\nbride is restored to her lover.\n\nHere we conclude, having traced parallels to Cupid and Psyche in many\nnon-Aryan lands. Our theory of the myth does not rest on etymology. We\nhave seen that the most renowned scholars, Max Mueller, Kuhn, Roth, all\nanalyse the names Urvasi and Pururavas in different ways, and extract\ndifferent interpretations. We have found the story where these names\nwere probably never heard of. We interpret it as a tale of the\nintercourse between mortal men and immortal maids, or between men and\nmetamorphosed animals, as in India and North America. We explain the\nseparation of the lovers as the result of breaking a taboo, or law of\netiquette, binding among men and women, as well as between men and\nfairies.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe taboos are, to see the beloved unveiled, to utter his or her name,\nto touch her with a metal 'terrible to ghosts and spirits,' or to do\nsome action which will revive the associations of a former life. We\nhave shown that rules of nuptial etiquette resembling these in\ncharacter do exist, and have existed, even among Greeks--as where the\nMilesian, like the Zulu, women made a law not to utter their husbands'\nnames. Finally, we think it a reasonable hypothesis that tales on the\npattern of 'Cupid and Psyche' might have been evolved wherever a\ncurious nuptial taboo required to be sanctioned, or explained, by a\nmyth. On this hypothesis, the stories may have been separately\ninvented in different lands; but there is also a chance that they have\nbeen transmitted from people to people in the unknown past of our\nscattered and wandering race. This theory seems at least as probable\nas the hypothesis that the meaning of an Aryan proverbial statement\nabout sun and dawn was forgotten, and was altered unconsciously into a\ntale which is found among various non-Aryan tribes. That hypothesis\nagain, learned and ingenious as it is, has the misfortune to be\nopposed by other scholarly hypotheses not less ingenious and learned.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAs for the sun-frog, we may hope that he has sunk for ever beneath the\nwestern wave.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[58] That Pururavas is regarded as a mortal man, in relations with\nsome sort of spiritual mistress, appears from the poem itself (v. 8,\n9, 18). The human character of Pururavas also appears in R. V., i. 31,\n4.\n\n[59] _Selected Essays_, i. 408.\n\n[60] The Apsaras is an ideally beautiful fairy woman, something\n'between the high gods and the lower grotesque beings,' with 'lotus\neyes' and other agreeable characteristics. A list of Apsaras known by\nname is given in Meyer's _Gandharven-Kentauren_, p. 28. They are often\nregarded as cloud-maidens by mythologists.\n\n[61] _Selected Essays_, i. 405.\n\n[62] Cf. _ruber_, _rufus_, O.H.G. _rot_, _rudhira_, ~erythros~; also\nSanskrit, _ravi_, sun.\n\n[63] R. V., iii. 29, 3.\n\n[64] The passage alluded to in Homer does not mean that dawn 'ends'\nthe day, but 'when the fair-tressed Dawn brought the full light of the\nthird day' (_Od._, v. 390).\n\n[65] Liebrecht (_Zur Volkskunde_, 241) is reminded by Pururavas (in\nRoth's sense of _der Brueller_) of loud-thundering Zeus, ~erigdoupos~.\n\n[66] _Herabkunft des Feuers_, pp. 86-89.\n\n[67] Liebrecht (_Zur Volkskunde_, p. 241) notices the reference to the\n'custom of women.' But he thinks the clause a mere makeshift,\nintroduced late to account for a prohibition of which the real meaning\nhad been forgotten. The improbability of this view is indicated by the\nfrequency of similar prohibitions in actual custom.\n\n[68] Astley, _Collection of Voyages_, ii. 24. This is given by Bluet\nand Moore on the evidence of one Job Ben Solomon, a native of Bunda in\nFuta. 'Though Job had a daughter by his last wife, yet he never saw\nher without her veil, as having been married to her only two years.'\nExcellently as this prohibition suits my theory, yet I confess I do\nnot like Job's security.\n\n[69] Brough Smyth, i. 423.\n\n[70] Bowen, _Central Africa_, p. 303.\n\n[71] Lafitau, i. 576.\n\n[72] Lubbock, _Origin of Civilisation_ (1875), p. 75.\n\n[73] _Chansons Pop. Bulg._, p. 172.\n\n[74] _Lectures on Language_, Second Series, p. 41.\n\n[75] J. A. Farrer, _Primitive Manners_, p. 202, quoting Seeman.\n\n[76] Sebillot, _Contes Pop. de la Haute-Bretagne_, p. 183.\n\n[77] Gervase of Tilbury.\n\n[78] Kuhn, _Herabkunft_, p. 92. See also _South African Journal of\nFolklore_, May, 1879, p. 46: 'As a rule, the bridegroom never sees his\nbride.'\n\n[79] _Chips_, ii. 251.\n\n[80] _Kitchi Gami_, p. 105.\n\n[81] Dalton's _Ethnol. of Bengal_, pp. 165, 166.\n\n[82] Taylor, _New Zealand_, p. 143.\n\n[83] Liebrecht gives a Hindoo example, _Zur Volkskunde_, p. 239.\n\n[84] _Cymmrodor_, iv. pt. ii.\n\n[85] _Prim. Cult._, i. 140.\n\n[86] _Primitive Manners_, p. 256.\n\n[87] See Meyer, _Gandharven-Kentauren_, Benfey, _Pantsch._, i. 263.\n\n[88] _Selected Essays_, i. 411.\n\n[89] _Callaway_, p. 63.\n\n[90] _Ibid._, p. 119.\n\n\n\n\n_A FAR-TRAVELLED TALE._\n\n\nA modern novelist has boasted that her books are read 'from Tobolsk to\nTangiers.' This is a wide circulation, but the widest circulation in\nthe world has probably been achieved by a story whose author, unlike\nOuida, will never be known to fame. The tale which we are about to\nexamine is, perhaps, of all myths the most widely diffused, yet there\nis no ready way of accounting for its extraordinary popularity. Any\ntrue 'nature-myth,' any myth which accounts for the processes of\nnature or the aspects of natural phenomena, may conceivably have been\ninvented separately, wherever men in an early state of thought\nobserved the same facts, and attempted to explain them by telling a\nstory. Thus we have seen that the earlier part of the myth of Cronus\nis a nature-myth, setting forth the cause of the separation of Heaven\nand Earth. Star-myths, again, are everywhere similar, because men who\nbelieved all nature to be animated and personal, accounted for the\ngrouping of constellations in accordance with these crude beliefs.[91]\nOnce more, if a story like that of 'Cupid and Psyche' be found among\nthe most diverse races, the distribution becomes intelligible if the\nmyth was invented to illustrate or enforce a widely prevalent custom.\nBut in the following story no such explanation is even provisionally\nacceptable.\n\nThe gist of the tale (which has many different 'openings,' and\nconclusions in different places) may be stated thus: A young man is\nbrought to the home of a hostile animal, a giant, cannibal, wizard, or\na malevolent king. He is put by his unfriendly host to various severe\ntrials, in which it is hoped that he will perish. In each trial he is\nassisted by the daughter of his host. After achieving the adventures,\nhe elopes with the girl, and is pursued by her father. The runaway\npair throw various common objects behind them, which are changed into\nmagical obstacles and check the pursuit of the father. The myth has\nvarious endings, usually happy, in various places. Another form of the\nnarrative is known, in which the visitors to the home of the hostile\nbeing are, not wooers of his daughter, but brothers of his wife.[92]\nThe incidents of the flight, in this variant, are still of the same\ncharacter. Finally, when the flight is that of a brother from his\nsister's malevolent ghost, in Hades (Japan), or of two sisters from a\ncannibal mother or step-mother (Zulu and Samoyed), the events of the\nflight and the magical aids to escape remain little altered. We shall\nafterwards see that attempts have been made to interpret one of these\nnarratives as a nature-myth; but the attempts seem unsuccessful. We\nare therefore at a loss to account for the wide diffusion of this\ntale, unless it has been transmitted slowly from people to people, in\nthe immense unknown prehistoric past of the human race.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBefore comparing the various forms of the myth in its first\nshape--that which tells of the mortal lover and the giant's or\nwizard's daughter--let us give the Scottish version of the story. This\nversion was written down for me, many years ago, by an aged lady in\nMorayshire. I published it in the _Revue Celtique_; but it is probably\nnew to story-comparers, in its broad Scotch variant.\n\n\nNICHT NOUGHT NOTHING.\n\n    There once lived a king and a queen. They were long married\n    and had no bairns: but at last the queen had a bairn, when\n    the king was away in far countries. The queen would not\n    christen the bairn till the king came back, and she said, 'We\n    will just call him _Nicht Nought Nothing_ until his father\n    comes home.' But it was long before he came home, and the boy\n    had grown a nice little laddie. At length the king was on his\n    way back; but he had a big river to cross, and there was a\n    spate, and he could not get over the water. But a giant came\n    up to him, and said, 'If you will give me Nicht Nought\n    Nothing, I will carry you over the water on my back.' The\n    king had never heard that his son was called Nicht Nought\n    Nothing, and so he promised him. When the king got home\n    again, he was very happy to see his wife again, and his young\n    son. She told him that she had not given the child any name\n    but Nicht Nought Nothing, until he should come home again\n    himself. The poor king was in a terrible case. He said, 'What\n    have I done? I promised to give the giant who carried me over\n    the river on his back, Nicht Nought Nothing.' The king and\n    the queen were sad and sorry, but they said, 'When the giant\n    comes we will give him the hen-wife's bairn; he will never\n    know the difference.' The next day the giant came to claim\n    the king's promise, and he sent for the hen-wife's bairn; and\n    the giant went away with the bairn on his back. He travelled\n    till he came to a big stone, and there he sat down to rest.\n    He said,\n\n    'Hidge Hodge, on my back, what time of day is it?'\n\n    The poor little bairn said, 'It is the time that my mother,\n    the hen-wife, takes up the eggs for the queen's breakfast.'\n\n    The giant was very angry, and dashed the bairn on the stone\n    and killed it.\n\n               *       *       *       *       *\n\n    The same adventure is repeated with the gardener's son.\n\n               *       *       *       *       *\n\n    Then the giant went back to the king's house, and said he\n    would destroy them all if they did not give him Nicht Nought\n    Nothing this time. They had to do it; and when he came to the\n    big stone, the giant said, 'What time of day is it?' Nicht\n    Nought Nothing said, 'It is the time that my father the king\n    will be sitting down to supper.' The giant said, 'I've got\n    the right ane noo;' and took Nicht Nought Nothing to his own\n    house and brought him up till he was a man.\n\n    The giant had a bonny dochter, and she and the lad grew very\n    fond of each other. The giant said one day to Nicht Nought\n    Nothing, 'I've work for you to-morrow. There is a stable\n    seven miles long and seven miles broad, and it has not been\n    cleaned for seven years, and you must clean it to-morrow, or\n    I will have you for my supper.'\n\n    The giant's dochter went out next morning with the lad's\n    breakfast, and found him in a terrible state, for aye as he\n    cleaned out a bit, it aye fell in again. The giant's dochter\n    said she would help him, and she cried a' the beasts o' the\n    field, and a' the fowls o' the air, and in a minute they a'\n    came, and carried awa' everything that was in the stable and\n    made a' clean before the giant came home. He said, 'Shame for\n    the wit that helped you; but I have a worse job for you\n    to-morrow.' Then he told Nicht Nought Nothing that there was\n    a loch seven miles long, and seven miles deep, and seven\n    miles broad, and he must drain it the next day, or else he\n    would have him for his supper. Nicht Nought Nothing began\n    early next morning and tried to lave the water with his pail,\n    but the loch was never getting any less, and he did no ken\n    what to do; but the giant's dochter called on all the fish in\n    the sea to come and drink the water, and very soon they drank\n    it dry. When the giant saw the work done he was in a rage,\n    and said, 'I've a worse job for you to-morrow; there is a\n    tree seven miles high, and no branch on it, till you get to\n    the top, and there is a nest, and you must bring down the\n    eggs without breaking one, or else I will have you for my\n    supper.' At first the giant's dochter did not know how to\n    help Nicht Nought Nothing; but she cut off first her fingers\n    and then her toes, and made steps of them, and he clamb the\n    tree, and got all the eggs safe till he came to the bottom,\n    and then one was broken. The giant's dochter advised him to\n    run away, and she would follow him. So he travelled until he\n    came to a king's palace, and the king and queen took him in\n    and were very kind to him. The giant's dochter left her\n    father's house, and he pursued her and was drowned. Then she\n    came to the king's palace where Nicht Nought Nothing was. And\n    she went up into a tree to watch for him. The gardener's\n    dochter, going to draw water in the well, saw the shadow of\n    the lady in the water, and thought it was herself, and said,\n    'If I'm so bonny, if I'm so brave, do you send me to draw\n    water?' The gardener's wife went out, and she said the same\n    thing. Then the gardener went himself, and brought the lady\n    from the tree, and led her in. And he told her that a\n    stranger was to marry the king's dochter, and showed her the\n    man: and it was Nicht Nought Nothing asleep in a chair. And\n    she saw him, and cried to him, 'Waken, waken, and speak to\n    me!' But he would not waken, and syne she cried,\n\n        'I cleaned the stable, I laved the loch, and I clamb\n            the tree,\n                And all for the love of thee,\n                And thou wilt not waken and speak to me.'\n\n    The king and the queen heard this, and came to the bonny\n    young lady, and she said,\n\n    'I canna get Nicht Nought Nothing to speak to me for all that\n    I can do.'\n\n    Then were they greatly astonished when she spoke of Nicht\n    Nought Nothing, and asked where he was, and she said, 'He\n    that sits there in the chair.' Then they ran to him and\n    kissed him and called him their own dear son, and he wakened,\n    and told them all that the giant's dochter had done for him,\n    and of all her kindness. Then they took her in their arms and\n    kissed her, and said she should now be their dochter, for\n    their son should marry her.\n\n    And they lived happy all their days.\n\nIn this variant of the story, which we may use as our text, it is to\nbe noticed that a _lacuna_ exists. The narrative of the flight omits\nto mention that the runaways threw things behind them which became\nobstacles in the giant's way. One of these objects probably turned\ninto a lake, in which the giant was drowned.[93] A common incident is\nthe throwing behind of a comb, which changes into a thicket. The\nformula of leaving obstacles behind occurs in the Indian collection,\nthe 'Kathasarit sagara' (vii. xxxix.). 'The Battle of the Birds,' in\nCampbell's _Tales of the West Highlands_, is a very copious Gaelic\nvariant. Russian parallels are 'Vasilissa the Wise and the Water\nKing,' and 'The King Bear.'[94] The incident of the flight and the\nmagical obstacles is found in Japanese mythology.[95] The 'ugly woman\nof Hades' is sent to pursue the hero. He casts down his black\nhead-dress, and it is instantly turned into grapes; he fled while she\nwas eating them. Again, 'he cast down his multitudinous and\nclose-toothed comb, and it instantly turned into bamboo sprouts.' In\nthe Gaelic version, the pursuer is detained by talkative objects which\nthe pursued leave at home, and this marvel recurs in Zululand, and is\nfound among the Bushmen. The Zulu versions are numerous.[96] Oddly\nenough, in the last variant, the girl performs no magic feat, but\nmerely throws sesamum on the ground to delay the cannibals, for\ncannibals are very fond of sesamum.[97]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nHere, then, we have the remarkable details of the flight, in Zulu,\nGaelic, Norse, Malagasy,[98] Russian, Italian, Japanese. Of all\nincidents in the myth, the incidents of the flight are most widely\nknown. But the whole connected series of events--the coming of the\nwooer; the love of the hostile being's daughter; the tasks imposed on\nthe wooer; the aid rendered by the daughter; the flight of the pair;\nthe defeat or destruction of the hostile being--all these, or most of\nthese, are extant, in due sequence, among the following races. The\nGreeks have the tale, the people of Madagascar have it, the Lowland\nScotch, the Celts, the Russians, the Italians, the Algonquins, the\nFinns, and the Samoans have it. Now if the story were confined to the\nAryan race, we might account for its diffusion, by supposing it to be\nthe common heritage of the Indo-European peoples, carried everywhere\nwith them in their wanderings. But when the tale is found in\nMadagascar, North America, Samoa, and among the Finns, while many\nscattered incidents occur in even more widely severed races, such as\nZulus, Bushmen, Japanese, Eskimo, Samoyeds, the Aryan hypothesis\nbecomes inadequate.\n\nTo show how closely, all things considered, the Aryan and non-Aryan\npossessors of the tale agree, let us first examine the myth of Jason.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe earliest literary reference to the myth of Jason is in the _Iliad_\n(vii. 467, xxiii. 747). Here we read of Euneos, a son whom Hypsipyle\nbore to Jason in Lemnos. Already, even in the _Iliad_, the legend of\nArgo's voyage has been fitted into certain well-known geographical\nlocalities. A reference in the _Odyssey_ (xii. 72) has a more antique\nring: we are told that of all barques Argo alone escaped the jaws of\nthe Rocks Wandering, which clashed together and destroyed ships. Argo\nescaped, it is said, 'because Jason was dear to Hera.' It is plain,\nfrom various fragmentary notices, that Hesiod was familiar with\nseveral of the adventures in the legend of Jason. In the _Theogony_\n(993-998) Hesiod mentions the essential facts of the legend: how Jason\ncarried off from AEetes his daughter, 'after achieving the adventures,\nmany and grievous, which were laid upon him.' At what period the home\nof AEetes was placed in Colchis, it is not easy to determine.\nMimnermus, a contemporary of Solon, makes the home of AEetes lie 'on\nthe brink of ocean,' a very vague description.[99] Pindar, on the\nother hand, in the splendid Fourth Pythian Ode, already knows Colchis\nas the scene of the loves and flight of Jason and Medea.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n'Long were it for me to go by the beaten track,' says Pindar, 'and I\nknow a certain short path.' Like Pindar, we may abridge the tale of\nJason. He seeks the golden fleece in Colchis: AEetes offers it to him\nas a prize for success in certain labours. By the aid of Medea, the\ndaughter of AEetes, the wizard king, Jason tames the fire-breathing\noxen, yokes them to the plough, and drives a furrow. By Medea's help\nhe conquers the children of the teeth of the dragon, subdues the snake\nthat guards the fleece of gold, and escapes, but is pursued by AEetes.\nTo detain AEetes, Medea throws behind the mangled remains of her own\nbrother, Apsyrtos, and the Colchians pursue no further than the scene\nof this bloody deed. The savagery as this act survives even in the\nwork of a poet so late as Apollonius Rhodius (iv. 477), where we read\nhow Jason performed a rite of savage magic, mutilating the body of\nApsyrtos in a manner which was believed to appease the avenging ghost\nof the slain. 'Thrice he tasted the blood, thrice spat it out between\nhis teeth,' a passage which the Scholiast says contains the\ndescription of an archaic custom popular among murderers.\n\nBeyond Tomi, where a popular etymology fixed the 'cutting up' of\nApsyrtos, we need not follow the fortunes of Jason and Medea. We have\nalready seen the wooer come to the hostile being, win his daughter's\nlove, achieve the adventures by her aid, and flee in her company,\ndelaying, by a horrible device, the advance of her pursuers. To these\nincidents in the tale we confine our attention.\n\nMany explanations of the Jason myth have been given by Scholars who\nthought they recognised elemental phenomena in the characters. As\nusual these explanations differ widely. Whenever a myth has to be\ninterpreted, it is certain that one set of Scholars will discover the\nsun and the dawn, where another set will see the thunder-cloud and\nlightning. The moon is thrown in at pleasure.\n\nPreller[100] is a learned Scholar, with his own set of etymologies.\nJason is derived, he thinks, from ~iaomai~, to heal, because Jason\nstudied medicine under the Centaur Chiron. This is the view of the\nScholiast on Apollonius Rhodius (i. 554). Jason, to Preller's mind, is\na form of Asclepius, 'a spirit of the spring with its soft suns and\nfertile rains.' Medea is the moon. Medea, on the other hand, is a\nlightning goddess, in the opinion of Schwartz.[101] No philological\nreason is offered. Mr. Brown writes: 'The moon, as the night-light,\nlinked with Idyia-Daeira, is itself knowing, and so appears as Medeia\n(\"the Wise\").'\n\nWe must suppose, it seems, that either the soft spring rains and the\nmoon, or the dawn and the sun, or the lightning and the thunder-cloud,\nin one arrangement or another, irresistibly suggested, to early Aryan\nminds, the picture of a wooer, arriving in a hostile home, winning a\nmaiden's love, achieving adventures by her aid, fleeing with her from\nher angry father and delaying his pursuit by various devices. Why the\nspring, the moon, the lightning, the dawn--any of them or all of\nthem--should have suggested such a tale, let Scholars determine when\nthey have reconciled their own differences. It is more to our purpose\nto follow the myth among Samoans, Algonquins, and Finns. None of these\nraces speak an Aryan language, and none can have been beguiled into\ntelling the same sort of tale by a disease of Aryan speech.\n\nSamoa, where we find our story, is the name of a group of volcanic\nislands in Central Polynesia. They are about 3000 miles from Sydney,\nwere first observed by Europeans in 1722, and are as far removed as\nmost spots from direct Aryan influences. Our position is, however,\nthat in the shiftings and migrations of peoples, the Jason tale has\nsomehow been swept, like a piece of drift-wood, on to the coasts of\nSamoa. In the islands, the tale has an epical form, and is chanted in\na poem of twenty-six stanzas. There is something Greek, in the free\nand happy life of the Samoans--something Greek, too, in this myth of\ntheirs. There was once a youth, Siati, famous for his singing, a young\nThamyris of Samoa. But as, according to Homer, 'the Muses met Thamyris\nthe Thracian, and made an end of his singing, for he boasted and said\nthat he would vanquish even the Muses if he sang against them,' so did\nthe Samoan god of song envy Siati. The god and the mortal sang a\nmatch: the daughter of the god was to be the mortal's prize if he\nproved victorious. Siati won, and he set off, riding on a shark, as\nArion rode the dolphin, to seek the home of the defeated deity. At\nlength he reached the shores divine, and thither strayed Puapae,\ndaughter of the god, looking for her comb which she had lost. 'Siati,'\nsaid she, 'how camest thou hither?' 'I am come to seek the song-god,\nand to wed his daughter.' 'My father,' said the maiden, 'is more a god\nthan a man; eat nothing he hands you, never sit on a high seat, lest\ndeath follow.' So they were united in marriage. But the god, like\nAEetes, was wroth, and began to set Siati upon perilous tasks: 'Build\nme a house, and let it be finished this very day, else death and the\noven await thee.'[102]\n\nSiati wept, but the god's daughter had the house built by the evening.\nThe other adventures were to fight a fierce dog, and to find a ring\nlost at sea. Just as the Scotch giant's daughter cut off her fingers\nto help her lover, so the Samoan god's daughter bade Siati cut her\nbody into pieces and cast her into the sea. There she became a fish,\nand recovered the ring. They set off to the god's house, but met him\npursuing them, with the help of his other daughter. 'Puapae and Siati\nthrew down the comb; and it became a bush of thorns in the way to\nintercept the god and Puanli,' the other daughter. Next they threw\ndown a bottle of earth, which became a mountain; 'and then followed\ntheir bottle of water, and that became a sea, and drowned the god and\nPuanli.'[103]\n\nThis old Samoan song contains nearly the closest savage parallel to\nthe various household tales which find their heroic and artistic shape\nin the Jason saga. Still more surprising in its resemblances is the\nMalagasy version of the narrative. In the Malagasy story, the\nconclusion is almost identical with the winding up of the Scotch fairy\ntale. The girl hides in a tree; her face, seen reflected in a well, is\nmistaken by women for their own faces, and the recognition follows in\ndue course.[104]\n\nLike most Red Indian versions of popular tales, the Algonquin form of\nthe Jason saga is strongly marked with the peculiarities of the race.\nThe story is recognisable, and that is all.\n\nThe opening, as usual, differs from other openings. Two children are\ndeserted in the wilderness, and grow up to manhood. One of them loses\nan arrow in the water; the elder brother, Panigwun, wades after it. A\nmagical canoe flies past: an old magician, who is alone in the canoe,\nseizes Panigwun and carries him off. The canoe fleets along, like the\nbarques of the Phaeacians, at the will of the magician, and reaches the\nisle where, like the Samoan god of song, he dwells with his two\ndaughters. 'Here, my daughter,' said he, 'is a young man for your\nhusband.' But the daughter knew that the proposed husband was but\nanother victim of the old man's magic arts. By the daughter's advice,\nPanigwun escaped in the magic barque, consoled his brother, and\nreturned to the island. Next day the magician, Mishosha, set the young\nman to hard tasks and perilous adventures. He was to gather gulls'\neggs; but the gulls attacked him in dense crowds. By an incantation he\nsubdued the birds, and made them carry him home to the island. Next\nday he was sent to gather pebbles, that he might be attacked and eaten\nby the king of the fishes. Once more the young man, like the Finnish\nIlmarinen in Pohjola, subdued the mighty fish, and went back\ntriumphant. The third adventure, as in 'Nicht Nought Nothing,' was to\nclimb a tree of extraordinary height in search of a bird's nest. Here,\nagain, the youth succeeded, and finally conspired with the daughters\nto slay the old magician. Lastly the boy turned the magician into a\nsycamore tree, and won his daughter. The other daughter was given to\nthe brother who had no share in the perils.[105] Here we miss the\nincident of the flight;[106] and the magician's daughter, though in\nlove with the hero, does not aid him to perform the feats. Perhaps an\nAlgonquin brave would scorn the assistance of a girl. In the\n'Kalevala,' the old hero, Waeinaemoeinen, and his friend Ilmarinen, set\noff to the mysterious and hostile land of Pohjola to win a bride. The\nmaiden of Pohjola loses her heart to Ilmarinen, and, by her aid, he\nbridles the wolf and bear, ploughs a field of adders with a plough of\ngold, and conquers the gigantic pike that swims in the Styx of Finnish\nmythology. After this point the story is interrupted by a long sequel\nof popular bridal songs, and, in the wandering course of the rather\naimless epic, the flight and its incidents have been forgotten, or are\nneglected. These incidents recur, however, in the thread of somewhat\ndifferent plots. We have seen that they are found in Japan, among the\nEskimo, among the Bushmen, the Samoyeds, and the Zulus, as well as in\nHungarian, Magyar, Celtic, and other European household tales.\n\nThe conclusion appears to be that the central part of the Jason myth\nis incapable of being explained, either as a nature-myth, or as a myth\nfounded on a disease of language. So many languages could not take the\nsame malady in the same way; nor can we imagine any series of natural\nphenomena that would inevitably suggest this tale to so many diverse\nraces. We must suppose, therefore, either that all wits jumped and\ninvented the same romantic series of situations by accident, or that\nall men spread from one centre, where the story was known, or that the\nstory, once invented, has drifted all round the world. If the last\ntheory be approved of, the tale will be like the Indian Ocean shell\nfound lately in the Polish bone-cave,[107] or like the Egyptian beads\ndiscovered in the soil of Dahomey. The story will have been carried\nhither and thither, in the remotest times, to the remotest shores, by\ntraders, by slaves, by captives in war, or by women torn from their\nown tribe and forcibly settled as wives among alien peoples.\n\nStories of this kind are everywhere the natural property of mothers\nand grandmothers. When we remember how widely diffused is the law of\nexogamy, which forbids marriage between a man and woman of the same\nstock, we are impressed by the number of alien elements which must\nhave been introduced with alien wives. Where husband and wife, as\noften happened, spoke different languages, the woman would inevitably\nbring the hearthside tales of her childhood among a people of strange\nspeech. By all these agencies, working through dateless time, we may\naccount for the diffusion, if we cannot explain the origin, of tales\nlike the central arrangement of incidents in the career of Jason.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[91] _Primitive Culture_, i. 357: 'The savage sees individual stars as\nanimate beings, or combines star-groups into living celestial\ncreatures, or limbs of them, or objects connected with them.'\n\n[92] This formula occurs among Bushmen and Eskimo (Bleek and Rink).\n\n[93] The events of the flight are recorded correctly in the Gaelic\nvariant 'The Battle of the Birds.' (Campbell, _Tales of the West\nHighlands_, vol. i. p. 25.)\n\n[94] Ralston, _Russian Folk Tales_, 132; Koehler, _Orient und\nOccident_, ii. 107, 114.\n\n[95] _Ko ti ki_, p. 36.\n\n[96] _Callaway_, pp. 51, 53, 64, 145, 228.\n\n[97] See also 'Petrosinella' in the _Pentamerone_, and 'The\nMaster-maid' in Dasent's _Tales from the Norse_.\n\n[98] _Folklore Journal_, August, 1883.\n\n[99] _Poetae Minores Gr._, ii.\n\n[100] _Gr. My._, ii. 318.\n\n[101] _Sonne, Mond und Sterne_, pp. 213, 229.\n\n[102] This proves that the tale belongs to the pre-Christian cannibal\nage.\n\n[103] Turner's _Samoa_, p. 102. In this tale only the names of the\ndaughters are translated; they mean 'white fish' and 'dark fish.'\n\n[104] _Folklore Journal_, August, 1883.\n\n[105] Schoolcraft, _Algic Researches_, ii. 94-104.\n\n[106] The Red Indian version of the flight is given in 'The Red Horse\nof the Dacotahs,' _Century Magazine_, 1884.\n\n[107] _Nature_, March 14, 1884.\n\n\n\n\n_APOLLO AND THE MOUSE._\n\n\nWhy is Apollo, especially the Apollo of the Troad, he who showered the\ndarts of pestilence among the Greeks, so constantly associated with a\nmouse? The very name, Smintheus, by which his favourite priest calls\non him in the _Iliad_ (i. 39), might be rendered 'Mouse Apollo,' or\n'Apollo, Lord of Mice.' As we shall see later, mice lived beneath the\naltar, and were fed in the holy of holies of the god, and an image of\na mouse was placed beside or upon his sacred tripod. The ancients were\npuzzled by these things, and, as will be shown, accounted for them by\n'mouse-stories,' ~Sminthiakoi logoi~, so styled by Eustathius, the\nmediaeval interpreter of Homer. Following our usual method, let us ask\nwhether similar phenomena occur elsewhere, in countries where they are\nintelligible. Did insignificant animals elsewhere receive worship:\nwere their effigies elsewhere placed in the temples of a purer creed?\nWe find answers in the history of Peruvian religion.\n\nAfter the Spanish conquest of Peru, one of the European adventurers,\nDon Garcilasso de la Vega, married an Inca princess. Their son, also\nnamed Garcilasso, was born about 1540. His famous book, _Commentarias\nReales_, contains the most authentic account of the old Peruvian\nbeliefs. Garcilasso was learned in all the learning of the Europeans,\nand, as an Inca on the mother's side, had claims on the loyalty of the\ndefeated race. He set himself diligently to collect both their\npriestly and popular traditions, and his account of them is the more\ntrustworthy as it coincides with what we know to have been true in\nlands with which Garcilasso had little acquaintance.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTo Garcilasso's mind, Peruvian religion seems to be divided into two\nperiods--the age before, and the age which followed the accession of\nthe Incas, and their establishment of sun-worship as the creed of the\nState. In the earlier period, the pre-Inca period, he tells us 'an\nIndian was not accounted honourable unless he was descended from a\nfountain, river, or lake, or even from the sea, or from a wild\nanimal, such as a bear, lion, tiger, eagle, or the bird they call\n_cuntur_ (condor), or some other bird of prey.'[108] To these\nworshipful creatures 'men offered what they usually saw them eat' (i.\n53). But men were not content to adore large and dangerous animals.\n'There was not an animal, how vile and filthy soever, that they did\nnot worship as a god,' including 'lizards, toads, and frogs.' In the\nmidst of these superstitions the Incas appeared. Just as the tribes\nclaimed descent from animals, great or small, so the Incas drew\n_their_ pedigree from the sun, which they adored like the _gens_ of\nthe Aurelii in Rome.[109] Thus every Indian had his _pacarissa_, or,\nas the North American Indians say, _totem_,[110] a natural object\nfrom which he claimed descent, and which, in a certain degree, he\nworshipped. Though sun-worship became the established religion,\nworship of the animal _pacarissas_ was still tolerated. The\nsun-temples also contained _huacas_, or images, of the beasts which\nthe Indians had venerated.[111] In the great temple of Pachacamac,\nthe most spiritual and abstract god of Peruvian faith, 'they\nworshipped a she-fox and an emerald. The devil also appeared to them,\nand spoke in the form of a tiger, very fierce.'[112] This toleration\nof an older and cruder, in subordination to a purer, faith is a very\ncommon feature in religious evolution. In Catholic countries, to this\nday, we may watch, in Holy Week, the Adonis feast described by\nTheocritus,[113] and the procession and entombment of the old god of\nspring.\n\n'The Incas had the good policy to collect all the tribal animal gods\ninto their temples in and round Cuzco, in which the two leading gods\nwere the Master of Life, and the Sun.' Did a process of this sort ever\noccur in Greek religion, and were older animal gods ever collected\ninto the temples of such deities as Apollo?\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWhile a great deal of scattered evidence about many animals\nconsecrated to Greek gods points in this direction, it will be enough,\nfor the present, to examine the case of the Sacred Mice. Among races\nwhich are still in the totemistic stage, which still claim descent\nfrom animals and from other objects, a peculiar marriage law generally\nexists, or can be shown to have existed. No man may marry a woman who\nis descended from the same ancestral animal, and who bears the same\ntotem-name, and carries the same badge or family crest, as himself. A\nman descended from the Crane, and whose family name is Crane, cannot\nmarry a woman whose family name is Crane. He must marry a woman of the\nWolf, or Turtle, or Swan, or other name, and her children keep her\nfamily title, not his. Thus, if a Crane man marries a Swan woman, the\nchildren are Swans, and none of them may marry a Swan; they must marry\nTurtles, Wolves, or what not, and _their_ children, again, are\nTurtles, or Wolves. Thus there is necessarily an eternal come and go\nof all the animal names known in a district. As civilisation advances\nthese rules grow obsolete. People take their names from the father, as\namong ourselves. Finally the dwellers in a given district, having\nbecome united into a local tribe, are apt to drop the various animal\ntitles and to adopt, as the name of the whole tribe, the name of the\nchief, or of the predominating family. Let us imagine a district of\nsome twenty miles in which there are Crane, Wolf, Turtle, and Swan\nfamilies. Long residence together, and common interests, have welded\nthem into a local tribe. The chief is of the Wolf family, and the\ntribe, sinking family differences and family names, calls itself 'the\nWolves.' Such tribes were probably, in the beginning, the inhabitants\nof the various Egyptian towns which severally worshipped the wolf, or\nthe sheep, or the crocodile, and abstained religiously (except on\ncertain sacrificial occasions) from the flesh of the animal that gave\nthem its name.[114]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt has taken us long to reach the Sacred Mice of Greek religion, but\nwe are now in a position to approach their august divinity. We have\nseen that the sun-worship superseded, without abolishing, the tribal\n_pacarissas_ in Peru, and that the _huacas_, or images, of the sacred\nanimals were admitted under the roof of the temple of the Sun. Now it\nis recognised that the temples of the Sminthian Apollo contained\nimages of sacred mice among other animals, and our argument is that\nhere, perhaps, we have another example of the Peruvian religious\nevolution. Just as, in Peru, the tribes adored 'vile and filthy'\nanimals, just as the solar worship of the Incas subordinated these,\njust as the _huacas_ of the beasts remained in the temples of the\nPeruvian Sun; so, we believe, the tribes along the Mediterranean\ncoasts had, at some very remote prehistoric period, their animal\n_pacarissas_; these were subordinated to the religion (to some extent\nsolar) of Apollo; and the _huacas_, or animal idols, survived in\nApollo's temples.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIf this theory be correct, we shall probably find the mouse, for\nexample, revered as a sacred animal in many places. This would\nnecessarily follow, if the marriage customs which we have described\never prevailed on Greek soil, and scattered the mouse-name far and\nwide.[115] Traces of the Mouse families, and of adoration, if\nadoration there was of the mouse, would linger on in the following\nshapes: (1) Places would be named from mice, and mice would be\nactually held sacred in themselves. (2) The mouse-name would be given\nlocally to the god who superseded the mouse. (3) The figure of the\nmouse would be associated with the god, and used as a badge, or a kind\nof crest, or local mark, in places where the mouse has been a\nvenerated animal. (4) Finally, myths would be told to account for the\nsacredness of a creature so undignified.\n\nLet us take these considerations in their order:--\n\n(1) If there were local mice tribes, deriving their name from the\nworshipful mouse, certain towns settled by these tribes would retain a\nreverence for mice.\n\nIn Chrysa, a town of the Troad, according to Heraclides Ponticus, mice\nwere held sacred, the local name for mouse being ~sminthos~. Many\nplaces bore this mouse-name, according to Strabo.[116] This is\nprecisely what would have occurred had the Mouse totem, and the Mouse\nstock, been widely distributed.[117] The Scholiast[118] mentions\nSminthus as a place in the Troad. Strabo speaks of two places deriving\ntheir name from Sminthus, or mouse, near the Sminthian temple, and\nothers near Larissa. In Rhodes and Lindus, the mouse place-name\nrecurs, 'and in many other districts' (~Kai allothi de pollachothi~).\nStrabo (x. 486) names Caressus, and Poeessa, in Ceos, among the other\nplaces which has Sminthian temples, and, presumably, were once centres\nof tribes named after the mouse.\n\nHere, then, are a number of localities in which the Mouse Apollo was\nadored, and where the old mouse-name lingered. That the mice were\nactually held sacred in their proper persons we learn from AElian. 'The\ndwellers in Hamaxitus of the Troad worship mice,' says AElian. 'In the\ntemple of Apollo Smintheus, mice are nourished, and food is offered to\nthem at the public expense, and white mice dwell beneath the\naltar.'[119] In the same way we found that the Peruvians fed their\nsacred beasts on what they usually saw them eat.\n\n(2) The second point in our argument has already been sufficiently\ndemonstrated. The mouse-name 'Smintheus' was given to Apollo in all\nthe places mentioned by Strabo, 'and many others.'\n\n(3) The figure of the mouse will be associated with the god, and used\nas a badge, or crest, or local mark, in places where the mouse has\nbeen a venerated animal.\n\nThe passage already quoted from AElian informs us that there stood 'an\neffigy of the mouse beside the tripod of Apollo.' In Chrysa,\naccording to Strabo (xiii. 604), the statue of Apollo Smintheus had a\nmouse beneath his foot. The mouse on the tripod of Apollo is\nrepresented on a bas-relief illustrating the plague, and the offerings\nof the Greeks to Apollo Smintheus, as described in the first book of\nthe _Iliad_.[120]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe mouse is not an uncommon local badge or crest in Greece. The\nanimals whose figures are stamped on coins, like the Athenian owl, are\nthe most ancient marks of cities. It is plausible conjecture that,\njust as the Iroquois when they signed treaties with the Europeans used\ntheir totems--bear, wolf, and turtle--as seals,[121] so the animals on\narchaic Greek city coins represented crests or badges which, at some\nfar more remote period, had been totems.\n\nThe Argives, according to Pollux,[122] stamped the mouse on their\ncoins.[123] As there was a temple of Apollo Smintheus in Tenedos, we\nnaturally hear of a mouse on the coins of the island.[124] Golzio has\npublished one of these mouse coins. The people of Metapontum stamped\ntheir money with a mouse gnawing an ear of corn. The people of Cumae\nemployed a mouse dormant. Paoli fancied that certain mice on Roman\nmedals might be connected with the family of _Mus_, but this is rather\nguesswork.[125]\n\nWe have now shown traces, at least, of various ways in which an early\ntribal religion of the mouse--the mouse _pacarissa_, as the Peruvians\nsaid--may have been perpetuated. When we consider that the superseding\nof the mouse by Apollo must have occurred, if it did occur, long\nbefore Homer, we may rather wonder that the mouse left his mark on\nGreek religion so long. We have seen mice revered, a god with a\nmouse-name, the mouse-name recurring in many places, the _huaca_, or\nidol of the mouse, preserved in the temples of the god, and the\nmouse-badge used in several widely severed localities. It remains (4)\nto examine the myths about mice. These, in our opinion, were probably\ntold to account for the presence of the _huaca_ of the mouse in\ntemples, and for the occurrence of the animal in religion, and his\nconnection with Apollo.\n\nA singular mouse-myth, narrated by Herodotus, is worth examining for\nreasons which will appear later, though the events are said to have\nhappened on Egyptian soil.[126] According to Herodotus, one Sethos, a\npriest of Hephaestus (Ptah), was king of Egypt. He had disgraced the\nmilitary class, and he found himself without an army when Sennacherib\ninvaded his country. Sethos fell asleep in the temple, and the god,\nappearing to him in a vision, told him that divine succour would come\nto the Egyptians.[127] In the night before the battle, field-mice\ngnawed the quivers and shield-handles of the foe, who fled on finding\nthemselves thus disarmed. 'And now,' says Herodotus, 'there standeth a\nstone image of this king in the temple of Hephaestus, and in the hand\nof the image a mouse, and there is this inscription, \"Let whoso\nlooketh on me be pious.\"'\n\nProf. Sayce[128] holds that there was no such person as Sethos, but\nthat the legend 'is evidently Egyptian, not Greek, and the name of\nSennacherib, as well as the fact of the Assyrian attack, is correct.'\nThe legend also, though Egyptian, is 'an echo of the biblical account\nof the destruction of the Assyrian army,' an account which omits the\nmice. 'As to the mice, here,' says Prof. Sayce, 'we have to do again\nwith the Greek dragomen (_sic_). The story of Sethos was attached to\nthe statue of some deity which was supposed to hold a mouse in its\nhand.' It must have been easy to verify this supposition; but Mr.\nSayce adds, 'mice were not sacred in Egypt, nor were they used as\nsymbols, or found on the monuments.' To this remark we may suggest\nsome exceptions. Apparently this one mouse _was_ found on the\nmonuments. Wilkinson (iii. 264) says mice do occur in the sculptures,\nbut they were not sacred. Rats, however, were certainly sacred, and as\nlittle distinction is taken, in myth, between rats and mice as between\nrabbits and hares. The rat was sacred to Ra, the Sun-god, and (like\nall totems) was not to be eaten.[129] This association of the rat and\nthe Sun cannot but remind us of Apollo and his mouse. According to\nStrabo, a certain city of Egypt did worship the shrew-mouse. The\nAthribitae, or dwellers in Crocodilopolis, are the people to whom he\nattributes this cult, whom he mentions (xvii. 831) among the other\nlocal animal-worships of Egypt.[130] Several porcelain examples of the\nfield-mouse sacred to Horus (commonly called Apollo by the Greeks) may\nbe seen in the British Museum.\n\nThat rats and field-mice were sacred in Egypt, then, we may believe on\nthe evidence of the Ritual of Strabo, and of many relics of Egyptian\nart. Herodotus, moreover, is credited when he says that the statue\n'had a mouse on its hand.' Elsewhere, it is certain that the story of\nthe mice gnawing the bowstrings occurs frequently as an explanation\nof mouse-worship. One of the Trojan 'mouse-stories' ran--that\nemigrants had set out in prehistoric times from Crete. The oracle\nadvised them to settle 'wherever they were attacked by the children of\nthe soil.' At Hamaxitus in the Troad, they were assailed in the night\nby mice, which ate all that was edible of their armour and bowstrings.\nThe colonists made up their mind that these mice were 'the children of\nthe soil,' settled there, and adored the mouse Apollo.[131] A myth of\nthis sort may either be a story invented to explain the mouse-name; or\na Mouse tribe, like the Red Indian Wolves, or Crows, may actually have\nbeen settled on the spot, and may even have resisted invasion.[132]\nAnother myth of the Troad accounted for the worship of the mouse\nApollo on the hypothesis that he had once freed the land from mice,\nlike the Pied Piper of Hamelin, whose pipe (still serviceable) is said\nto have been found in his grave by men who were digging a mine.[133]\n\nStories like these, stories attributing some great deliverance to the\nmouse, or some deliverance from mice to the god, would naturally\nspring up among people puzzled by their own worship of the mouse-god\nor of the mouse. We have explained the religious character of mice as\nthe relics of a past age in which the mouse had been a totem and mouse\nfamily names had been widely diffused. That there are, and have been,\nmice totems and mouse family names among Semitic stocks round the\nMediterranean is proved by Prof. Robertson Smith:[134] 'Achbor, the\nmouse, is an Edomite name, apparently a stock name, as the jerboa and\nanother mouse-name are among the Arabs. The same name occurs in\nJudah.' Where totemism exists, the members of each stock either do not\neat the ancestral animal at all, or only eat him on rare sacrificial\noccasions. The totem of a hostile stock may be eaten by way of insult.\nIn the case of the mouse, Isaiah seems to refer to one or other of\nthese practices (lxvi.): 'They that sanctify themselves, and purify\nthemselves in the gardens behind one tree in the midst, eating swine's\nflesh, and the abomination, and the _mouse_, shall be consumed\ntogether, saith the Lord.' This is like the Egyptian prohibition to\neat 'the abominable' (that is, tabooed or forbidden) 'Rat of Ra.' If\nthe unclean animals of Israel were originally the totems of each clan,\nthen the mouse was a totem,[135] for the chosen people were forbidden\nto eat 'the weasel, and the mouse, and the tortoise after his kind.'\nThat unclean beasts, beasts not to be eaten, were originally totems,\nProf. Robertson Smith infers from Ezekiel (viii. 10, 11), where 'we\nfind seventy of the elders of Israel--that is, the heads of\nhouses--worshipping in a chamber which had on its walls the figures of\nall manner of unclean' (tabooed) 'creeping things, and quadrupeds,\n_even all the idols of the House of Israel_.' Some have too hastily\nconcluded that the mouse was a sacred animal among the neighbouring\nPhilistines. After the Philistines had captured the Ark and set it in\nthe house of Dagon, the people were smitten with disease. They\ntherefore, in accordance with a well-known savage magical practice,\nmade five golden representations of the diseased part, and five golden\nmice, as 'a trespass offering to the Lord of Israel,' and so restored\nthe Ark.[136] Such votive offerings are common still in Catholic\ncountries, and the mice of gold by no means prove that the Philistines\nhad ever worshipped mice.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTurning to India from the Mediterranean basin, and the Aryan, Semitic,\nand Egyptian tribes on its coasts, we find that the mouse was the\nsacred animal of Rudra. 'The mouse, Rudra, is thy beast,' says the\nYajur Veda, as rendered by Grohmann in his _Apollo Smintheus_.\nGrohmann recognises in Rudra a deity with most of the characteristics\nof Apollo. In later Indian mythology, the mouse is an attribute of\nGaneca, who, like Apollo Smintheus, is represented in art with his\nfoot upon a mouse.\n\nSuch are the chief appearances of the mouse in ancient religion. If he\nreally was a Semitic totem, it may, perhaps, be argued that his\nprevalence in connection with Apollo is the result of a Semitic leaven\nin Hellenism. Hellenic invaders may have found Semitic mouse-tribes at\nhome, and incorporated the alien stock deity with their own\nApollo-worship. In that case the mouse, while still originally a\ntotem, would not be an Aryan totem. But probably the myths and rites\nof the mouse, and their diffusion, are more plausibly explained on our\ntheory than on that of De Gubernatis: 'The Pagan Sun-god crushes\nunder his foot the Mouse of Night. When the cat's away, the mice may\nplay; the shadows of night dance when the moon is absent.'[137] This\nis one of the quaintest pieces of mythological logic. Obviously, when\nthe cat (the moon) is away, the mice (the shadows) _cannot_ play:\nthere is no light to produce a shadow. As usually chances, the\nScholars who try to resolve all the features of myth into physical\nphenomena do not agree among themselves about the mouse. While the\nmouse is the night according to M. de Gubernatis, in Grohmann's\nopinion the mouse is the lightning. He argues that the lightning was\noriginally regarded by the Aryan race as the 'flashing tooth of a\nbeast,' especially of a mouse. Afterwards men came to identify the\nbeast with his teeth, and, behold the lightning and the mouse are\nconvertible mythical terms! Now it is perfectly true that savages\nregard many elemental phenomena, from eclipses to the rainbow, as the\nresult of the action of animals. The rainbow is a serpent;[138]\nthunder is caused by the thunder-bird, who has actually been shot in\nDacotah, and who is familiar to the Zulus; while rain is the milk of a\nheavenly cow--an idea recurring in the _Zend Avesta_. But it does not\nfollow because savages believe in these meteorological beasts that all\nthe beasts in myth were originally meteorological. Man raised a\nserpent to the skies, perhaps, but his interest in the animal began on\nearth, not in the clouds. It is excessively improbable, and quite\nunproved, that any race ever regarded lightning as the flashes of a\nmouse's teeth. The hypothesis is a _jeu d'esprit_, like the opposite\nhypothesis about the mouse of Night. In these, and all the other\ncurrent theories of the Sminthian Apollo, the widely diffused worship\nof ordinary mice, and such small deer, has been either wholly\nneglected, or explained by the first theory of symbolism that occurred\nto the conjecture of a civilised observer. The facts of savage\nanimal-worship, and their relations to totemism, seem still unknown to\nor unappreciated by Scholars, with the exception of Mr. Sayce, who\nrecognises totemism as the origin of the zoomorphic element in\nEgyptian religion.\n\nOur explanation, whether adequate or not, is not founded on an\nisolated case. If Apollo superseded and absorbed the worship of the\nmouse, he did no less for the wolf, the ram, the dolphin, and several\nother animals whose images were associated with his own. The Greek\nreligion was more refined and anthropomorphic than that of Egypt. In\nEgypt the animals were still adored, and the images of the gods had\nbestial heads. In Greece only a few gods, and chiefly in very archaic\nstatues, had bestial heads; but besides the other deities the sculptor\nset the owl, eagle, wolf, serpent, tortoise, mouse, or whatever\ncreature was the local favourite of the deity.[139] Probably the deity\nhad, in the majority of cases, superseded the animal and succeeded to\nhis honours. But the conservative religious sentiment retained the\nbeast within the courts and in the suit and service of the\nanthropomorphic god.[140]\n\nThe process by which the god ousted the beasts may perhaps be\nobserved in Samoa. There (as Dr. Turner tells us in his _Samoa_) each\nfamily has its own sacred animal, which it may not eat. If this law be\ntransgressed, the malefactor is supernaturally punished in a variety\nof ways. But, while each family has thus its totem, four or five\ndifferent families recognise, in owl, crab, lizard, and so on,\nincarnations of the same god, say of Tongo. If Tongo had a temple\namong these families, we can readily believe that images of the\nvarious beasts in which he was incarnate would be kept within the\nconsecrated walls. Savage ideas like these, if they were ever\nentertained in Greece, would account for the holy animals of the\ndifferent deities. But it is obvious that the phenomena which we have\nbeen studying may be otherwise explained. It may be said that the\nSminthian Apollo was only revered as the enemy and opponent of mice.\nSt. Gertrude (whose heart was eaten by mice) has the same _role_ in\nFrance.[141] The worship of Apollo, and the badge of the mouse, would,\non this principle, be diffused by colonies from some centre of the\nfaith. The images of mice in Apollo's temples would be nothing more\nthan votive offerings. Thus, in the church of a Saxon town, the verger\nshows a silver mouse dedicated to Our Lady. 'This is the greatest of\nour treasures,' says the verger. 'Our town was overrun with mice till\nthe ladies of the city offered this mouse of silver. Instantly all the\nmice disappeared.' 'And are you such fools as to believe that the\ncreatures went away because a silver mouse was dedicated?' asked a\nPrussian officer. 'No,' replied the verger, rather neatly; 'or long\nago we should have offered a silver Prussian.'\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[108] _Comm. Real._, i. 75.\n\n[109] See _Early History of the Family_, _infra_.\n\n[110] The names _Totem_ and _Totemism_ have been in use at least since\n1792, among writers on the North American tribes. Prof. Max Mueller\n(_Academy_, Jan., 1884) says the word should be, not _Totem_, but\n_Ote_ or _Otem_. Mr. Tylor's inquiries among the Red Men support this.\nLong, an interpreter among the Indians, introduced the word _Totamism_\nin 1792; but Lafitau (1724) had already explained some classical myths\nas survivals of Totemism.\n\n[111] Christoval de Moluna (1570), p. 5.\n\n[112] Cieza de Leon, p. 183.\n\n[113] _Idyll_ xv.\n\n[114] Sayce, _Herodotos_, p. 344; Herodotus, ii. 42; Wilkinson's\n_Ancient Egyptians_ (1878, ii. 475, note 2); Plutarch, _De Is. et\nOs._, 71, 72; Athenaeus, vii. 299; Strabo, xvii. 813.\n\n[115] The Mouse, according to Dalton, is still a totem among the\nOraons of Bengal. A man of the Mouse 'motherhood,' as the totem\nkindred is locally styled, may not eat mice (esteemed a delicacy), nor\nmarry a girl who is a Mouse.\n\n[116] xiii. 604. Casaub. 1620.\n\n[117] There were Sminthiac feasts at Rhodes, Gela, Lesbos, and Crete\n(De Witte, _Revue Numismatique_, N.S. iii. 3-11).\n\n[118] _Iliad_, i. 39.\n\n[119] AElian, _H. A._, xii. 5.\n\n[120] The bas-relief is published in Paoli's _Della Religi ne de'\nGentili_, Naples, 1771, p. 9; also by Fabretti, ad Cal. Oper. _de\nColum. Trajan._, p. 315. Paoli's book was written after the discovery\nin Neapolitan territory of a small bronze image, hieratic in\ncharacter, representing a man with a mouse on his hand. Paoli's\nengraving of this work of art, unluckily, does not enable us to\ndetermine its date or _provenance_. The book is a mine of mouse-lore.\n\n[121] Colden, _History of the Five Nations_, p. 15 (1727).\n\n[122] _Onomast._, ix. segm. 84.\n\n[123] De Witte says Pollux was mistaken here. In the _Revue\nNumismatique_, N.S. iii., De Witte publishes coins of Alexandria, the\nmore ancient Hamaxitus, in the Troad. The Sminthian Apollo is\nrepresented with his bow, and the mouse on his hand. Other coins show\nthe god with the mouse at his foot, or show us the lyre of Apollo\nsupported by mice. A bronze coin in the British Museum gives Apollo\nwith the mouse beside his foot.\n\n[124] _Spanheim_, ad Fl. Joseph., vi. 1, p. 312.\n\n[125] _Della Rel._, p. 174.\n\n[126] Herodotus, ii. 141.\n\n[127] Liebrecht (_Zur Volkskunde_, p. 13, quoting _Journal Asiatique_,\n1st series, 3, 307) finds the same myth in Chinese annals. It is not a\ngod, however, but the king of the rats who appears to the distressed\nmonarch in his dream. Rats then gnaw the bowstrings of his enemies.\nThe invaders were Turks, the rescued prince a king of Khotan. The king\nraised a temple, and offered sacrifice--to the rats? The same story of\nrats gnawing bowstrings recurs, of all places, in the _Migration\nLegend of the Greeks_ (Brinton, Philadelphia. 1884).\n\n[128] _Herodotos_, p. 204.\n\n[129] Wilkinson, iii. 249, quoting the Ritual xxxiii.: 'Thou devourest\nthe abominable rat of Ra, or the Sun.'\n\n[130] Mr. Loftie has kindly shown me a green mouse containing the\nthrone-name of Thothmes III. The animals thus used as substitutes for\nscarabs were also sacred, as the fish, rhinoceros, fly, all\nrepresented in Mr. Loftie's collection. See his _Essay of Scarabs_, p.\n27. It may be admitted that, in a country where Cats were gods, the\nreligion of the Mouse must have been struggling and oppressed.\n\n[Illustration: {Two examples of scarab substitutes}]\n\n[131] Strabo, xiii. 604.\n\n[132] Eustathius on _Iliad_, i. 39.\n\n[133] _A Strange and True Relation of the Prodigious Multitude of\nMice_, 1670.\n\n[134] _Journal of Philol._, xvii. p. 96.\n\n[135] Leviticus xi. 29.\n\n[136] Samuel i. 5, 6.\n\n[137] _Zool. Myth._, ii. 68.\n\n[138] _Melusine_, N.S. i.\n\n[139] _De Iside et Osiride_, lxxvi.\n\n[140] This hypothesis does not maintain that totemism prevailed in\nGreece during historic times. Though Plutarch mentions a Carian\n~genos~, the Ioxidae, of Attic descent, which revered asparagus, it is\nprobable that genuine totemism had died out of Greece many hundreds of\nyears before even Homer's time. But this view is not inconsistent with\nthe existence of survivals in religion and ritual.\n\n[141] Rolland, _Faune populaire_.\n\n\n\n\n_STAR MYTHS._\n\n\nArtemus Ward used to say that, while there were many things in the\nscience of astronomy hard to be understood, there was one fact which\nentirely puzzled him. He could partly perceive how we 'weigh the sun,'\nand ascertain the component elements of the heavenly bodies, by the\naid of _spectrum_ analysis. 'But what beats me about the stars,' he\nobserved plaintively, 'is how we come to know their names.' This\nquestion, or rather the somewhat similar question, 'How did the\nconstellations come by their very peculiar names?' has puzzled\nProfessor Pritchard and other astronomers more serious than Artemus\nWard. Why is a group of stars called the _Bear_, or the _Swan_, or the\n_Twins_, or named after the _Pleiades_, the fair daughters of the\nGiant Atlas?[142] These are difficulties that meet even children when\nthey examine a 'celestial globe.' There they find the figure of a\nbear, traced out with lines in the intervals between the stars of the\nconstellations, while a very imposing giant is so drawn that Orion's\nbelt just fits his waist. But when he comes to look at the heavens,\nthe infant speculator sees no sort of likeness to a bear in the\nstars, nor anything at all resembling a giant in the neighbourhood of\nOrion. The most eccentric modern fancy which can detect what shapes it\nwill in clouds, is unable to find any likeness to human or animal\nforms in the stars, and yet we call a great many of the stars by the\nnames of men and beasts and gods. Some resemblance to terrestrial\nthings, it is true, every one can behold in the heavens. _Corona_, for\nexample, is like a crown, or, as the Australian black fellows know, it\nis like a boomerang, and we can understand why they give it the name\nof that curious curved missile. The _Milky Way_, again, does resemble\na path in the sky; our English ancestors called it _Watling\nStreet_--the path of the Watlings, mythical giants--and Bushmen in\nAfrica and Red Men in North America name it the 'ashen path' or 'the\npath of souls.' The ashes of the path, of course, are supposed to be\nhot and glowing, not dead and black like the ash-paths of modern\nrunning-grounds. Other and more recent names for certain\nconstellations are also intelligible. In Homer's time the Greeks had\ntwo names for the _Great Bear_; they called it the _Bear_, or the\n_Wain_: and a certain fanciful likeness to a wain may be made out,\nthough no resemblance to a bear is manifest. In the United States the\nsame constellation is popularly styled the _Dipper_, and every one may\nobserve the likeness to a dipper or toddy-ladle.\n\nBut these resemblances take us only a little way towards appellations.\nWe know that we derive many of the names straight from the Greek; but\nwhence did the Greeks get them? Some, it is said, from the Chaldaeans;\nbut whence did they reach the Chaldaeans? To this we shall return\nlater, but, as to early Greek star-lore, Goguet, the author of\n_L'Origine des Lois_, a rather learned but too speculative work of the\nlast century, makes the following characteristic remarks: 'The Greeks\nreceived their astronomy from Prometheus. This prince, as far as\nhistory teaches us, made his observations on Mount Caucasus.' That was\nthe eighteenth century's method of interpreting mythology. The myth\npreserved in the 'Prometheus Bound' of AEschylus tells us that Zeus\ncrucified the Titan on Mount Caucasus. The French philosopher,\nrejecting the supernatural elements of the tale, makes up his mind\nthat Prometheus was a prince of a scientific bent, and that he\nestablished his observatory on the frosty Caucasus. But, even\nadmitting this, why did Prometheus give the stars animal names? Goguet\neasily explains this by a hypothetical account of the manners of\nprimitive men. 'The earliest peoples,' he says, 'must have used\nwriting for purposes of astronomical science. They would be content to\ndesign the constellations of which they wished to speak by the\nhieroglyphical symbols of their names; hence the constellations have\ninsensibly taken the names of the chief symbols.' Thus, a drawing of a\nbear or a swan was the hieroglyphic of the name of a star, or group of\nstars. But whence came the name which was represented by the\nhieroglyphic? That is precisely what our author forgets to tell us.\nBut he remarks that the meaning of the hieroglyphic came to be\nforgotten, and 'the symbols gave rise to all the ridiculous tales\nabout the heavenly signs.' This explanation is attained by the process\nof reasoning in a vicious circle from hypothetical premises\nascertained to be false. All the known savages of the world, even\nthose which have scarcely the elements of picture-writing, call the\nconstellations by the names of men and animals, and all tell\n'ridiculous tales' to account for the names.\n\nAs the star-stories told by the Greeks, the ancient Egyptians, and\nother civilised people of the old world, exactly correspond in\ncharacter, and sometimes even in incident, with the star-stories of\nmodern savages, we have the choice of three hypothesis to explain this\ncurious coincidence. Perhaps the star-stories, about nymphs changed\ninto bears, and bears changed into stars, were invented by the\ncivilised races of old, and gradually found their way amongst people\nlike the Eskimo, and the Australians, and Bushmen. Or it may be\ninsisted that the ancestors of Australians, Eskimo, and Bushmen were\nonce civilised, like the Greeks and Egyptians, and invented\nstar-stories, still remembered by their degenerate descendants. These\nare the two forms of the explanation which will be advanced by persons\nwho believe that the star-stories were originally the fruit of the\ncivilised imagination. The third theory would be, that the 'ridiculous\ntales' about the stars were originally the work of the savage\nimagination, and that the Greeks, Chaldaeans, and Egyptians, when they\nbecame civilised, retained the old myths that their ancestors had\ninvented when they were savages. In favour of this theory it may be\nsaid, briefly, that there is no proof that the fathers of\nAustralians, Eskimo, and Bushmen had ever been civilised, while there\nis a great deal of evidence to suggest that the fathers of the Greeks\nhad once been savages.[143] And, if we incline to the theory that the\nstar-myths are the creation of savage fancy, we at once learn why they\nare, in all parts of the world, so much alike. Just as the flint and\nbone weapons of rude races resemble each other much more than they\nresemble the metal weapons and the artillery of advanced peoples, so\nthe mental products, the fairy tales, and myths of rude races have\neverywhere a strong family resemblance. They are produced by men in\nsimilar mental conditions of ignorance, curiosity, and credulous\nfancy, and they are intended to supply the same needs, partly of\namusing narrative, partly of crude explanation of familiar phenomena.\n\nNow it is time to prove the truth of our assertion that the\nstar-stories of savage and of civilised races closely resemble each\nother. Let us begin with that well-known group the _Pleiades_. The\npeculiarity of the _Pleiades_ is that the group consists of seven\nstars, of which one is so dim that it seems entirely to disappear, and\nmany persons can only detect its presence through a telescope. The\nGreeks had a myth to account for the vanishing of the lost Pleiad. The\ntale is given in the _Catasterismoi_ (stories of metamorphoses into\nstars) attributed to Eratosthenes. This work was probably written\nafter our era; but the author derived his information from older\ntreatises now lost. According to the Greek myth, then, the seven stars\nof the Pleiad were seven maidens, daughters of the Giant Atlas. Six of\nthem had gods for lovers; Poseidon admired two of them, Zeus three,\nand Ares one; but the seventh had only an earthly wooer, and when all\nof them were changed into stars, the maiden with the mortal lover hid\nher light for shame.\n\nNow let us compare the Australian story. According to Mr. Dawson\n(_Australian Aborigines_), a writer who understands the natives well,\n'their knowledge of the heavenly bodies greatly exceeds that of most\nwhite people,' and 'is taught by men selected for their intelligence\nand information. The knowledge is important to the aborigines on their\nnight journeys;' so we may be sure that the natives are careful\nobservers of the heavens, and are likely to be conservative of their\nastronomical myths. The 'Lost Pleiad' has not escaped them, and this\nis how they account for her disappearance. The _Pirt Kopan noot_ tribe\nhave a tradition that the _Pleiades_ were a queen and her six\nattendants. Long ago the _Crow_ (our _Canopus_) fell in love with the\nqueen, who refused to be his wife. The _Crow_ found that the queen and\nher six maidens, like other Australian _gins_, were in the habit of\nhunting for white edible grubs in the bark of trees. The _Crow_ at\nonce changed himself into a grub (just as Jupiter and Indra used to\nchange into swans, horses, ants, or what not) and hid in the bark of a\ntree. The six maidens sought to pick him out with their wooden hooks,\nbut he broke the points of all the hooks. Then came the queen with\nher pretty bone hook; he let himself be drawn out, took the shape of a\ngiant, and ran away with her. Ever since there have only been six\nstars, the six maidens, in the _Pleiad_. This story is well known, by\nthe strictest inquiry, to be current among the blacks of the West\nDistrict and South Australia.\n\nMr. Tylor, whose opinion is entitled to the highest respect, thinks\nthat this may be a European myth, told by some settler to a black in\nthe Greek form, and then spread about among the natives. He complains\nthat the story of the loss of the _brightest_ star does not fit the\nfacts of the case.\n\nWe do not know, and how can the Australians know, that the lost star\nwas once the brightest? It appears to me that the Australians,\nremarking the disappearance of a star, might very naturally suppose\nthat the _Crow_ had selected for his wife that one which had been the\nmost brilliant of the cluster. Besides, the wide distribution of the\ntale among the natives, and the very great change in the nature of the\nincidents, seem to point to a native origin. Though the main\nconception--the loss of one out of seven maidens--is identical in\nGreek and in _Murri_, the manner of the disappearance is eminently\nHellenic in the one case, eminently savage in the other. However this\nmay be, nothing of course is proved by a single example. Let us next\nexamine the stars _Castor_ and _Pollux_. Both in Greece and in\nAustralia these are said once to have been two young men. In the\n_Catasterismoi_, already spoken of, we read: 'The _Twins_, or\n_Dioscouroi_.--They were nurtured in Lacedaemon, and were famous for\ntheir brotherly love, wherefore, Zeus, desiring to make their memory\nimmortal, placed them both among the stars.' In Australia, according\nto Mr. Brough Smyth (_Aborigines of Victoria_), _Turree_ (_Castor_)\nand _Wanjel_ (_Pollux_) are two young men who pursue _Purra_ and kill\nhim at the commencement of the great heat. _Coonar toorung_ (the\nmirage) is the smoke of the fire by which they roast him. In Greece it\nwas not Castor and Pollux, but _Orion_ who was the great hunter placed\namong the stars. Among the Bushmen of South Africa, _Castor_ and\n_Pollux_ are not young men, but young women, the wives of the Eland,\nthe great native antelope. In Greek star-stories the _Great Bear_\nkeeps watch, Homer says, on the hunter Orion for fear of a sudden\nattack. But how did the Bear get its name in Greece? According to\nHesiod, the oldest Greek poet after Homer, the Bear was once a lady,\ndaughter of Lycaon, King of Arcadia. She was a nymph of the train of\nchaste Artemis, but yielded to the love of Zeus, and became the\nancestress of all the Arcadians. Changed by Zeus to a bestial form,\nshe was shot by Artemis, and then translated by Zeus to the stars\n(Apollod., iii. 8; Eustath., 1156; Bachofen, _Der Baer_, p. 14).[144]\nHere we must notice first, that the Arcadians, like Australians, Red\nIndians, and other wild races, and like the Bedouins, believed\nthemselves to be descended from a girl who became an animal. That the\nearly Egyptians did the same is not improbable; for names of animals\nare found among the ancestors in the very oldest genealogical\npapyrus,[145] as in the genealogies of the old English kings. Next the\nArcadians transferred the ancestral bear to the heavens, and, in doing\nthis, they resembled the Peruvians, of whom Acosta says: 'They adored\nthe star _Urchuchilly_, feigning it to be a _Ram_, and worshipped two\nothers, and say that one of them is a _sheep_, and the other a lamb\n... others worshipped the star called the _Tiger_. _They were of\nopinion that there was not any beast or bird upon the earth, whose\nshape or image did not shine in the heavens._'\n\nBut to return to our bears. The Australians have, properly speaking,\nno bears, though the animal called the native bear is looked up to by\nthe aborigines with superstitious regard. But among the North American\nIndians, as the old missionaries Lafitau and Charlevoix observed, 'the\nfour stars in front of our constellation are a bear; those in the tail\nare hunters who pursue him; the small star apart is the pot in which\nthey mean to cook him.'\n\nIt may be held that the Red Men derived their bear from the European\nsettlers. But, as we have seen, an exact knowledge of the stars has\nalways been useful if not essential to savages; and we venture to\ndoubt whether they would confuse their nomenclature and sacred\ntraditions by borrowing terms from trappers and squatters. But, if\nthis is improbable, it seems almost impossible that all savage races\nshould have borrowed their whole conception of the heavenly bodies\nfrom the myths of Greece. It is thus that Egede, a missionary of the\nlast century, describes the Eskimo philosophy of the stars: 'The\nnotions that the Greenlanders have as to the origin of the heavenly\nlights--as sun, moon, and stars--are very nonsensical; in that they\npretend they have formerly been as many of their own ancestors, who,\non different accounts, were lifted up to heaven, and became such\nglorious celestial bodies.' Again, he writes: 'Their notions about the\nstars are that some of them have been men, and others different sorts\nof animals and fishes.' But every reader of Ovid knows that this was\nthe very mythical theory of the Greeks and Romans. The Egyptians,\nagain, worshipped Osiris, Isis, and the rest as _ancestors_, and there\nare even modern scholars, like Mr. Loftie in his _Essay of Scarabs_,\nwho hold Osiris to have been originally a real historical person. But\nthe Egyptian priests who showed Plutarch the grave of Osiris, showed\nhim, too, the stars into which Osiris, Isis, and Horus had been\nmetamorphosed. Here, then, we have Greeks, Egyptians, and Eskimo, all\nagreed about the origin of the heavenly lights, all of opinion that\n'they have formerly been as many of their own ancestors.'\n\nThe Australian general theory is: 'Of the good men and women, after\nthe deluge, Pundjel (a kind of Zeus, or rather a sort of Prometheus of\nAustralian mythology) made stars. Sorcerers (_Biraark_) can tell which\nstars were once good men and women.' Here the sorcerers have the same\nknowledge as the Egyptian priests. Again, just as among the\nArcadians, 'the progenitors of the existing tribes, whether birds, or\nbeasts, or men, were set in the sky, and made to shine as stars.'[146]\n\nWe have already given some Australian examples in the stories of the\n_Pleiades_, and of _Castor_ and _Pollux_. We may add the case of the\n_Eagle_. In Greece the _Eagle_ was the bird of Zeus, who carried off\nGanymede to be the cup-bearer of Olympus. Among the Australians this\nsame constellation is called _Totyarguil_; he was a man who, when\nbathing, was killed by a fabulous animal, a kind of kelpie; as Orion,\nin Greece, was killed by the _Scorpion_. Like Orion, he was placed\namong the stars. The Australians have a constellation named _Eagle_,\nbut he is our _Sirius_, or _Dog-star_.\n\nThe Indians of the Amazon are in one tale with the Australians and\nEskimo. 'Dr. Silva de Coutinho informs me,' says Professor Hartt,[147]\n'that the Indians of the Amazonas not only give names to many of the\nheavenly bodies, but also tell stories about them. The two stars that\nform the shoulders of Orion are said to be an old man and a boy in a\ncanoe, chasing a _peixe boi_, by which name is designated a dark spot\nin the sky near the above constellation.' The Indians also know\nmonkey-stars, crane-stars, and palm-tree stars.\n\nThe Bushmen, almost the lowest tribe of South Africa, have the same\nstar-lore and much the same myths as the Greeks, Australians,\nEgyptians, and Eskimo. According to Dr. Bleek, 'stars, and even the\nsun and moon, were once mortals on earth, or even animals or inorganic\nsubstances, which happened to get translated to the skies. The sun\nwas once a man whose arm-pit radiated a limited amount of light round\nhis house. Some children threw him into the sky, and there he shines.'\nThe Homeric hymn to Helios, in the same way, as Mr. Max Mueller\nobserves, 'looks on the sun as a half-god, almost a hero, who had once\nlived on earth.' The pointers of the Southern Cross were 'two men who\nwere lions,' just as Callisto, in Arcadia, was a woman who was a bear.\nIt is not at all rare in those queer philosophies, as in that of the\nScandinavians, to find that the sun or moon has been a man or woman.\nIn Australian fable the moon was a man, the sun a woman of indifferent\ncharacter, who appears at dawn in a coat of red kangaroo skins, the\npresent of an admirer. In an old Mexican text the moon was a man,\nacross whose face a god threw a rabbit, thus making the marks in the\nmoon.[148]\n\nMany separate races seem to recognise the figure of a hare, where we\nsee 'the Man in the Moon.' In a Buddhist legend, an exemplary and\naltruistic hare was translated to the moon. 'To the common people in\nIndia the spots on the moon look like a hare, and Chandras, the god of\nthe moon, carries a hare: hence the moon is called _sasin_ or\n_sasanka_, hare-mark. The Mongolians also see in these shadows the\nfigure of a hare.'[149] Among the Eskimo, the moon is a girl, who\nalways flees from her cruel brother, the sun, because he disfigured\nher face. Elsewhere the sun is the girl, beloved by her own brother,\nthe moon; she blackens her face to avert his affection. On the Rio\nBranco, and among the Tomunda, the moon is a girl who loved her\nbrother and visited him in the dark. He detected her wicked passion by\ndrawing his blackened hand over her face. The marks betrayed her, and,\nas the spots on the moon, remain to this day.[150]\n\nAmong the New Zealanders and North American Indians the sun is a great\nbeast, whom the hunters trapped and thrashed with cudgels. His blood\nis used in some New Zealand incantations; and, according to an\nEgyptian myth, was kneaded into clay at the making of man. But there\nis no end to similar sun-myths, in all of which the sun is regarded as\na man, or even as a beast.\n\nTo return to the stars--\n\nThe Red Indians, as Schoolcraft says, 'hold many of the planets to be\ntransformed adventurers.' The Iowas 'believed stars to be a sort of\nliving creatures.' One of them came down and talked to a hunter, and\nshowed him where to find game. The Gallinomeros of Central California,\naccording to Mr. Bancroft, believe that the sun and moon were made and\nlighted up by the Hawk and the Coyote, who one day flew into each\nother's faces in the dark, and were determined to prevent such\naccidents in the future. But the very oddest example of the survival\nof the notion that the stars are men or women is found in the 'Pax' of\nAristophanes. Trygaeus in that comedy has just made an expedition to\nheaven. A slave meets him, and asks him, 'Is not the story true, then,\nthat we become stars when we die?' The answer is, 'Certainly'; and\nTrygaeus points out the star into which Ios of Chios has just been\nmetamorphosed. Aristophanes is making fun of some popular Greek\nsuperstition. But that very superstition meets us in New Zealand.\n'Heroes,' says Mr. Tylor, 'were thought to become stars of greater or\nless brightness, according to the number of their victims slain in\nfight.'\n\nThe Aryan race is seldom far behind, when there are ludicrous notions\nto be credited or savage tales to be told. We have seen that\nAristophanes, in Greece, knew the Eskimo doctrine that stars are souls\nof the dead. The Persians had the same belief,[151] 'all the\nunnumbered stars were reckoned ghosts of men.'[152] The German\nfolklore clings to the same belief, 'Stars are souls; when a child\ndies God makes a new star.' Kaegi quotes[153] the same idea from the\nVeda, and from the Satapatha Brahmana the thoroughly Australian notion\nthat 'good men become stars.' For a truly savage conception, it would\nbe difficult, in South Africa or on the Amazons, to beat the following\nstory from the _Aitareya Brahmana_ (iii. 33). Pragapati, the Master of\nLife, conceived an incestuous passion for his own daughter. Like Zeus,\nand Indra, and the Austrian wooer in the Pleiad tale, he concealed\nhimself under the shape of a beast, a roebuck, and approached his own\ndaughter, who had assumed the form of a doe. The gods, in anger at the\nawful crime, made a monster to punish Pragapati. The monster sent an\narrow through the god's body; he sprang into heaven, and, like the\nArcadian bear, this Aryan roebuck became a constellation. He is among\nthe stars of Orion, and his punisher, also now a star, is, like the\nGreek Orion, a hunter. The daughter of Pragapati, the doe, became\nanother constellation, and the avenging arrow is also a set of stars\nin the sky. What follows, about the origin of the gods called Adityas,\nis really too savage to be quoted by a chaste mythologist.\n\nIt would be easy to multiply examples of this stage of thought among\nAryans and savages. But we have probably brought forward enough for\nour purpose, and have expressly chosen instances from the most widely\nseparated peoples. These instances, it will perhaps be admitted,\nsuggest, if they do not prove, that the Greeks had received from\ntradition precisely the same sort of legends about the heavenly bodies\nas are current among Eskimo and Bushmen, New Zealanders and Iowas. As\nmuch, indeed, might be inferred from our own astronomical\nnomenclature. We now give to newly discovered stars names derived from\ndistinguished people, as _Georgium Sidus_, or _Herschel_; or, again,\nmerely technical appellatives, as _Alpha_, _Beta_, and the rest. We\nshould never think when 'some new planet swims into our ken' of\ncalling it _Kangaroo_, or _Rabbit_, or after the name of some hero of\nromance, as _Rob Roy_, or _Count Fosco_. But the names of stars which\nwe inherit from Greek mythology--the _Bear_, the _Pleiades_, _Castor_\nand _Pollux_, and so forth--are such as no people in our mental\ncondition would originally think of bestowing. When Callimachus and\nthe courtly astronomers of Alexandria pretended that the golden locks\nof Berenice were raised to the heavens, that was a mere piece of\nflattery constructed on the inherited model of legends about the\ncrown (_Corona_) of Ariadne. It seems evident enough that the older\nGreek names of stars are derived from a time when the ancestors of the\nGreeks were in the mental and imaginative condition of Iowas, Kanekas,\nBushmen, Murri, and New Zealanders. All these, and all other savage\npeoples, believe in a kind of equality and intercommunion among all\nthings animate and inanimate. Stones are supposed in the Pacific\nIslands to be male and female and to propagate their species. Animals\nare believed to have human or superhuman intelligence, and speech, if\nthey choose to exercise the gift. Stars are just on the same footing,\nand their movements are explained by the same ready system of\nuniversal anthropomorphism. Stars, fishes, gods, heroes, men, trees,\nclouds, and animals, all play their equal part in the confused dramas\nof savage thought and savage mythology. Even in practical life the\nchange of a sorcerer into an animal is accepted as a familiar\nphenomenon, and the power of soaring among the stars is one on which\nthe Australian Biraark, or the Eskimo Shaman, most plumes himself. It\nis not wonderful that things which are held possible in daily practice\nshould be frequent features of mythology. Hence the ready invention\nand belief of star-legends, which in their turn fix the names of the\nheavenly bodies. Nothing more, except the extreme tenacity of\ntradition and the inconvenience of changing a widely accepted name, is\nneeded to account for the human and animal names of the stars. The\nGreeks received from the dateless past of savage intellect the myths,\nand the names of the constellations, and we have taken them, without\ninquiry, from the Greeks. Thus it happens that our celestial globes\nare just as queer menageries as any globes could be that were\nillustrated by Australians or American Indians, by Bushmen or Peruvian\naborigines, or Eskimo. It was savages, we may be tolerably certain,\nwho first handed to science the names of the constellations, and\nprovided Greece with the raw material of her astronomical myths--as\nBacon prettily says, that we listen to the harsh ideas of earlier\npeoples 'blown softly through the flutes of the Grecians.'\n\nThis position has been disputed by Mr. Brown, in a work called _The\nLaw of Kosmic Order_. Mr. Brown's theory is that the early Accadians\nnamed the zodiacal signs after certain myths and festivals connected\nwith the months. Thus the crab is a figure of 'the darkness power'\nwhich seized the Accadian solar hero, Dumuzi, and 'which is constantly\nrepresented in monstrous and drakontic form.' The bull, again, is\nconnected with night and darkness, 'in relation to the horned moon,'\nand is, for other reasons, 'a nocturnal potency.' Few stars, to tell\nthe truth, are diurnal potencies. Mr. Brown's explanations appear to\nme far-fetched and unconvincing. But, granting that the zodiacal signs\nreached Greece from Chaldaea, Mr. Brown will hardly maintain that\nAustralians, Melanesians, Iowas, Amazon Indians, Eskimo, and the rest,\nborrowed their human and animal stars from 'Akkadia.' The belief in\nanimal and human stars is practically universal among savages who have\nnot attained the 'Akkadian' degree of culture. The belief, as Mr.\nTylor has shown,[154] is a natural result of savage ideas. We\ntherefore infer that the 'Akkadians,' too, probably fell back for\nstar-names on what they inherited from the savage past. If the Greeks\nborrowed certain star-names from the 'Akkadians,' they also, like the\nAryans of India, retained plenty of savage star-myths of their own,\nfables derived from the earliest astronomical guesses of early\nthought.\n\nThe first moment in astronomical science arrives when the savage,\nlooking at a star, says, like the child in the nursery poem, 'How I\nwonder what you are!' The next moment comes when the savage has made\nhis first rough practical observations of the movements of the\nheavenly body. His third step is to explain these to himself. Now\nscience cannot offer any but a fanciful explanation beyond the sphere\nof experience. The experience of the savage is limited to the narrow\nworld of his tribe, and of the beasts, birds, and fishes of his\ndistrict. His philosophy, therefore, accounts for all phenomena on the\nsupposition that the laws of the animate nature he observes are\nworking everywhere. But his observations, misguided by his crude\nmagical superstitions, have led him to believe in a state of equality\nand kinship between men and animals, and even inorganic things. He\noften worships the very beasts he slays; he addresses them as if they\nunderstood him; he believes himself to be descended from the animals,\nand of their kindred. These confused ideas he applies to the stars,\nand recognises in them men like himself, or beasts like those with\nwhich he conceives himself to be in such close human relations. There\nis scarcely a bird or beast but the Red Indian or the Australian will\nexplain its peculiarities by a myth, like a page from Ovid's\n_Metamorphoses_. It was once a man or a woman, and has been changed to\nbird or beast by a god or a magician. Men, again, have originally been\nbeasts, in his philosophy, and are descended from wolves, frogs, or\nserpents, or monkeys. The heavenly bodies are traced to precisely the\nsame sort of origin; and hence, we conclude, come their strange animal\nnames, and the strange myths about them which appear in all ancient\npoetry. These names, in turn, have curiously affected human beliefs.\nAstrology is based on the opinion that a man's character and fate are\ndetermined by the stars under which he is born. And the nature of\nthese stars is deduced from their names, so that the bear should have\nbeen found in the horoscope of Dr. Johnson. When Giordano Bruno wrote\nhis satire against religion, the famous 'Spaccio della bestia\ntrionfante,' he proposed to banish not only the gods but the beasts\nfrom heaven. He would call the stars, not the _Bear_, or the _Swan_,\nor the _Pleiades_, but Truth, Mercy, Justice, and so forth, that men\nmight be born, not under bestial, but moral influences. But the beasts\nhave had too long possession of the stars to be easily dislodged, and\nthe tenure of the _Bear_ and the _Swan_ will probably last as long as\nthere is a science of Astronomy. Their names are not likely again to\ndelude a philosopher into the opinion of Aristotle that the stars are\nanimated.\n\nThis argument had been worked out to the writer's satisfaction when he\nchanced to light on Mr. Max Mueller's explanation of the name of the\n_Great Bear_. We have explained that name as only one out of\ncountless similar appellations which men of every race give to the\nstars. These names, again, we have accounted for as the result of\nsavage philosophy, which takes no great distinction between man and\nthe things in the world, and looks on stars, beasts, birds, fishes,\nflowers, and trees as men and women in disguise. Mr. Mueller's theory\nis based on philological considerations. He thinks that the name of\nthe _Great Bear_ is the result of a mistake as to the meaning of\nwords. There was in Sanskrit, he says,[155] a root _ark_, or _arch_,\nmeaning 'to be bright.' She-stars are called _riksha_, that is, bright\nones, in the Veda. 'The constellations here called the Rikshas, in the\nsense of the \"bright ones,\" would be homonymous in Sanskrit with the\nBears. Remember also that, apparently without rhyme or reason, the\nsame constellation is called by Greeks and Romans the Bear.... There\nis not the shadow of a likeness with a bear. You will now perceive the\ninfluence of words on thought, or the spontaneous growth of mythology.\nThe name _Riksha_ was applied to the bear in the sense of the bright\nfuscous animal, and in that sense it became most popular in the later\nSanskrit, and in Greek and Latin. The same name, \"in the sense of the\nbright ones,\" had been applied by the Vedic poets to the stars in\ngeneral, and more particularly to that constellation which in the\nnorthern parts of India was the most prominent. The etymological\nmeaning, \"the bright stars,\" was forgotten; the popular meaning of\nRiksha (bear) was known to every one. And thus it happened that, when\nthe Greeks had left their central home and settled in Europe, they\nretained the name of Arktos for the same unchanging stars; but, not\nknowing why those stars had originally received that name, they ceased\nto speak of them as _arktoi_, or many bears, and spoke of them as the\nBear.'\n\nThis is a very good example of the philological way of explaining a\nmyth. If once we admit that _ark_, or _arch_, in the sense of 'bright'\nand of 'bear,' existed, not only in Sanskrit, but in the undivided\nAryan tongue, and that the name Riksha, bear, 'became in that sense\nmost popular in Greek and Latin,' this theory seems more than\nplausible. But the explanation does not look so well if we examine,\nnot only the Aryan, but all the known myths and names of the Bear and\nthe other stars. Professor Sayce, a distinguished philologist, says we\nmay not compare non-Aryan with Aryan myths. We have ventured to do so,\nhowever, in this paper, and have shown that the most widely severed\nraces give the stars animal names, of which the _Bear_ is one example.\nNow, if the philologists wish to persuade us that it was decaying and\nhalf-forgotten language which caused men to give the names of animals\nto the stars, they must prove their case on an immense collection of\ninstances--on Iowa, Kaneka, Murri, Maori, Brazilian, Peruvian,\nMexican, Egyptian, Eskimo, instances. It would be the most amazing\ncoincidence in the world if forgetfulness of the meaning of their own\nspeech compelled tribes of every tongue and race to recognise men and\nbeasts, cranes, cockatoos, serpents, monkeys, bears, and so forth in\nthe heavens. How came the misunderstood words always to be\nmisunderstood in the same way? Does the philological explanation\naccount for the enormous majority of the phenomena? If it fails, we\nmay at least doubt whether it solves the one isolated case of the\nGreat Bear among the Greeks and Romans. It must be observed that the\nphilological explanation of Mr. Mueller does not clear up the Arcadian\nstory of their own descent from a she-bear who is now a star. Yet\nsimilar stories of the descent of tribes from animals are so\nwidespread that it would be difficult to name the race or the quarter\nof the globe where they are not found. Are they all derived from\nmisunderstood words meaning 'bright'? These considerations appear to\nbe a strong argument for comparing not only Aryan, but all attainable\nmyths. We shall often find, if we take a wide view, that the\nphilological explanation which seemed plausible in a single case is\nhopelessly narrow when applied to a large collection of parallel cases\nin language of various families.\n\nFinally, in dealing with star-myths, we adhere to the hypothesis of\nMr. Tylor: 'From savagery up to civilisation,' Akkadian, Greek, or\nEnglish, 'there may be traced in the mythology of the stars a course\nof thought, changed, indeed, in application, yet never broken in its\nevident connection from first to last. The savage sees individual\nstars as animate beings, or combines star-groups into living celestial\ncreatures, or limbs of them, or objects connected with them; while at\nthe other extremity of the scale of civilisation the modern astronomer\nkeeps up just such ancient fancies, turning them to account in useful\nsurvival, as a means of mapping out the celestial globe.'[156]\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[142] The attempt is not to explain the origin of each separate name,\nbut only of the general habit of giving animal or human names to\nstars.\n\n[143] Mr. Herbert Spencer believes that the Australians were once more\ncivilised than at present. But there has never been found a trace of\npottery on the Australian continent, which says little for their\ncivilisation in the past.\n\n[144] See C. O. Mueller (_Prolog. zur Mythol._, Engl. transl., p. 17):\n'Callisto is just nothing else than Artemis and her sacred animal\ncomprehended in one idea.' See also pp. 201-4. Mueller (C. O.) very\nnearly made the discovery that the gods of Greece may in some cases\nhave a bestial ancestry.\n\n[145] Brugsch, _History of Egypt_, i. 32.\n\n[146] Brough Smyth.\n\n[147] _Amazonian Tortoise Myths_, p. 39.\n\n[148] Sahagun, vii. 3.\n\n[149] Grimm, _D. M._, Engl. transl., p. 716.\n\n[150] Hartt, _op. cit._, p. 40. For a modern sun-man and his myth in\nthe Cyclades, see J. T. Bent, in the _Athenaeum_, Jan. 17, 1885.\n\n[151] Kaegi, _Der Rig Veda_, p. 217.\n\n[152] _Mainjo-i-Khard_, 49, 22, ed. West.\n\n[153] _Op. cit._, p. 98.\n\n[154] _Prim. Cult._, i. 357.\n\n[155] _Lectures on Language_, pp. 359, 362.\n\n[156] Ideler (_Untersuchungen ueber den Ursprung der Sternnamen_) may\nalso be consulted.\n\n\n\n\n_MOLY AND MANDRAGORA._\n\n\n'I have found out a new cure for rheumatism,' said the lady beside\nwhom it was my privilege to sit at dinner. 'You carry a potato about\nin your pocket!'\n\nSome one has written an amusing account of the behaviour of a man who\nis finishing a book. He takes his ideas everywhere with him and broods\nover them, even at dinner, in the pauses of conversation. But here was\na lady who kindly contributed to my studies and offered me folklore\nand survivals in cultivated Kensington.\n\nMy mind had strayed from the potato cure to the New Zealand habit of\ncarrying a baked yam at night to frighten away ghosts, and to the old\nEnglish belief that a bit of bread kept in the pocket was sovereign\nagainst evil spirits. Why should ghosts dread the food of mortals when\nit is the custom of most races of mortals to feed ancestral ghosts?\nThe human mind works pretty rapidly, and all this had passed through\nmy brain while I replied, in tones of curiosity: 'A potato!'\n\n'Yes; but it is not every potato that will do. I heard of the cure in\nthe country, and when we came up to town, and my husband was\ncomplaining of rheumatism, I told one of the servants to get me a\npotato for Mr. Johnson's rheumatism. \"Yes, ma'am,\" said the man; \"but\nit must be a _stolen_ potato.\" I had forgotten that. Well, one can't\nask one's servants to steal potatoes. It is easy in the country, where\nyou can pick one out of anybody's field.' 'And what did you do?' I\nasked. 'Oh, I drove to Covent Garden and ordered a lot of fruit and\nflowers. While the man was not looking, I stole a potato--a very\nlittle one. I don't think there was any harm in it.' 'And did Mr.\nJohnson try the potato cure?' 'Yes, he carried it in his pocket, and\nnow he is quite well. I told the doctor, and he says he knows of the\ncure, but he dares not recommend it.'\n\nHow oddly superstitions survive! The central idea of this modern folly\nabout the potato is that you must pilfer the root. Let us work the\nidea of the healing of magical herb backwards, from Kensington to\nEuropean folklore, and thence to classical times, to Homer, and to the\nHottentots. Turning first to Germany, we note the beliefs, not about\nthe potato, but about another vegetable, the mandrake. Of all roots,\nin German superstition, the Alraun, or mandrake is the most famous.\nThe herb was conceived of, in the savage fashion, as a living human\nperson, a kind of old witch-wife.[157]\n\nAgain, the root has a human shape. 'If a hereditary thief who has\npreserved his chastity gets hung,' the broad-leafed, yellow-flowered\nmandrake grows up, in his likeness, beneath the gallows from which he\nis suspended. The mandrake, like the moly, the magical herb of the\nOdyssey, is 'hard for men to dig.' He who desires to possess a\nmandrake must stop his ears with wax, so that he may not hear the\ndeathly yells which the plant utters as it is being dragged out of the\nearth. Then before sunrise on a Friday, the amateur goes out with a\ndog, 'all black,' makes three crosses round the mandrake, loosens the\nsoil about the root, ties the root to the dog's tail, and offers the\nbeast a piece of bread. The dog runs at the bread, drags out the\nmandrake root, and falls dead, killed by the horrible yell of the\nplant. The root is now taken up, washed with wine, wrapped in silk,\nlaid in a casket, bathed every Friday, 'and clothed in a little new\nwhite smock every new moon.' The mandrake acts, if thus considerately\ntreated, as a kind of familiar spirit. 'Every piece of coin put to her\nover night is found doubled in the morning.' Gipsy folklore, and the\nfolklore of American children, keep this belief in doubling deposits.\nThe gipsies use the notion in what they call 'The Great Trick.' Some\nfoolish rustic makes up his money in a parcel which he gives to the\ngipsy. The latter, after various ceremonies performed, returns the\nparcel, which is to be buried. The money will be found doubled by a\ncertain date. Of course when the owner unburies the parcel he finds\nnothing in it but brass buttons. In the same way, and with pious\nconfidence, the American boy buries a marble in a hollow log, uttering\nthe formula, 'What hasn't come here, _come!_ what's here, _stay_\nhere!' and expects to find all the marbles he has ever lost.[158] Let\nus follow the belief in magical roots into the old Pagan world.\n\nThe ancients knew mandragora and the superstitions connected with it\nvery well. Dioscorides mentions _mandragorus_, or _antimelon_, or\n_dircaea_, or _Circaea_, and says the Egyptians call it _apemoum_, and\nPythagoras 'anthropomorphon.' In digging the root, Pliny says 'there\nare some ceremonies observed, first they that goe about this worke,\nlook especially to this that the wind be not in their face, but blow\nupon their backs. Then with the point of a sword they draw three\ncircles round about the plant, which don, they dig it up afterwards\nwith their face unto the west.' Pliny says nothing of the fetich\nqualities of the plant, as credited in modern and mediaeval Germany,\nbut mentions 'sufficient it is with some bodies to cast them into\nsleep with the smel of mandrago.' This is like Shakespeare's 'poppy\nand mandragora, and all the drowsy syrups of the world.' Plato and\nDemosthenes[159] also speak of mandragora as a soporific. It is more\nto the purpose of magic that Columella mentions 'the _half-human_\nmandragora.' Here we touch the origin of the mandrake superstitions.\nThe roots have a kind of fantastic resemblance to the human shape;\nPliny describes them as being 'of a fleshy substance and tender.' Now\nit is one of the recognised principles in magic, that things like each\nother, however superficially, affect each other in a mystic way, and\npossess identical properties. Thus, in Melanesia, according to Mr.\nCodrington,[160] 'a stone in the shape of a pig, of a bread-fruit, of\na yam, was a most valuable find,' because it made pigs prolific, and\nfertilised bread-fruit trees and yam-plots. In Scotland, too, 'stones\nwere called by the names of the limbs they resembled, as \"eye-stane,\"\n\"head-stane.\" A patient washed the affected part of his body, and\nrubbed it well with the stone corresponding.'[161] In precisely the\nsame way, the mandrake root, being thought to resemble the human body,\nwas credited with human and superhuman powers. Josephus mentions[162]\na plant 'not easily caught, which slips away from them that wish to\ngather it, and never stands still' till certain repulsive rites are\nperformed. These rites cannot well be reported here, but they are\nquite familiar to Red Indian and to Bushman magic. Another way to dig\nthe plant spoken of by Josephus is by aid of the dog, as in the German\nsuperstition quoted from Grimm. AElian also recommends the use of the\ndog to pluck the herb aglaophotis, which shines at night.[163] When\nthe dog has dragged up the root, and died of terror, his body is to be\nburied on the spot with religious honours and secret sacred rites.\n\nSo much for mandragora, which, like the healing potato, has to be\nacquired stealthily and with peril. Now let us examine the Homeric\nherb moly. The plant is thus introduced by Homer: In the tenth book of\nthe _Odyssey_, Circe has turned Odysseus's men into swine. He sets\nforth to rescue them, trusting only to his sword. The god Hermes meets\nhim, and offers him 'a charmed herb,' 'this herb of grace' (~pharmakon\nesthlon~), whereby he may subdue the magic wiles of Circe.\n\nThe plant is described by Homer with some minuteness. 'It was black\nat the root, but the flower was like to milk. \"Moly,\" the gods call\nit, but it is hard for mortal men to dig, howbeit with the gods all\nthings are possible.' The etymologies given of 'moly' are almost as\nnumerous as the etymologists. One derivation, from the old 'Turanian'\ntongue of Accadia, will be examined later. The Scholiast offers the\nderivation '~molyein~, to make charms of no avail'; but this is\nexactly like Professor Blackie's etymological discovery that Erinys is\nderived from ~erinyein~: 'he might as well derive _critic_ from\n_criticise_.'[164] The Scholiast adds that moly caused death to the\nperson who dragged it out of the ground. This identification of moly\nwith mandrake is probably based on Homer's remark that moly is 'hard\nto dig.' The black root and white flower of moly are quite unlike the\nyellow flower and white fleshy root ascribed by Pliny to mandrake.\nOnly confusion is caused by regarding the two magical herbs as\nidentical.\n\nBut why are any herbs or roots magical? While some Scholars, like De\nGubernatis, seek an explanation in supposed myths about clouds and\nstars, it is enough for our purpose to observe that herbs really have\nmedicinal properties, and that untutored people invariably confound\nmedicine with magic. A plant or root is thought to possess virtue, not\nonly when swallowed in powder or decoction, but when carried in the\nhand. St. John's wort and rowan berries, like the Homeric moly, still\n'make evil charms of none avail';\n\n    Rowan, ash, and red threed\n    Gar the witches tyne their speed,\n\nsays the Scotch rhyme. Any fanciful resemblance of leaf or flower or\nroot to a portion of the human body, any analogy based on colour, will\ngive a plant reputation for magical virtues. This habit of mind\nsurvives from the savage condition. The Hottentots are great\nherbalists. Like the Greeks, like the Germans, they expect\nsupernatural aid from plants and roots. Mr. Hahn, in his _Tsui Goam,\nthe Supreme Being of the Khoi Khoi_ (p. 82), gives the following\nexamples:--\n\n    Dapper, in his description of Africa, p. 621, tells us: 'Some\n    of them wear round the neck, roots, which they find far\n    inland, in rivers, and being on a journey they light them in\n    a fire or chew them, if they must sleep the night out in the\n    field. They believe that these roots keep off the wild\n    animals. The roots they chew are spit out around the spot\n    where they encamp for the night; and in a similar way, if\n    they set the roots alight, they blow the smoke and ashes\n    about, believing that the smell will keep the wild animals\n    off.\n\n    'I had often occasion to observe the practice of these\n    superstitious ceremonies, especially when we were in a part\n    of the country where we heard the roaring of the lions, or\n    had the day previously met with the footprints of the king of\n    the beasts.\n\n    'The Korannas also have these roots as safeguards with them.\n    If a Commando (a warlike expedition) goes out, every man will\n    put such roots in his pockets and in the pouch where he keeps\n    his bullets, believing that the arrows or bullets of the\n    enemy have no effect, but that his own bullets will surely\n    kill the enemy. And also before they lie down to sleep, they\n    set these roots alight, and murmur: \"My grandfather's root,\n    bring sleep on the eyes of the lion and leopard and the\n    hyena. Make them blind, that they cannot find us, and cover\n    their noses, that they cannot smell us out.\" Also, if they\n    have carried off large booty, or stolen cattle of the enemy,\n    they light these roots and say: \"We thank thee, our\n    grandfather's root, that thou hast given us cattle to eat.\n    Let the enemy sleep, and lead him on the wrong track, that he\n    may not follow us until we have safely escaped.\"\n\n    'Another sort of shrub is called _abib_. Herdsmen,\n    especially, carry pieces of its wood as charms, and if cattle\n    or sheep have gone astray, they burn a piece of it in the\n    fire, that the wild animals may not destroy them. And they\n    believe that the cattle remain safe until they can be found\n    the next morning.'[165]\n\nSchweinfurth found the same belief in magic herbs and roots among the\nBongoes and Niam Niams in 'The Heart of Africa.' The Bongoes believe,\nlike the Homeric Greeks, that 'certain roots ward off the evil\ninfluences of spirits.' Like the German amateurs of the mandrake, they\nassert that 'there is no other resource for obtaining communication\nwith spirits, except by means of certain roots' (i. 306).\n\nOur position is that the English magical potato, the German mandrake,\nthe Greek moly, are all survivals from a condition of mind like that\nin which the Hottentots still pray to roots.\n\nNow that we have brought mandragora and moly into connection with the\nordinary magical superstitions of savage peoples, let us see what is\nmade of the subject by another method. Mr. R. Brown, the learned and\nindustrious author of _The Great Dionysiak Myth_, has investigated the\ntraditions about the Homeric moly. He first[166] 'turns to Aryan\nphilology.' Many guesses at the etymology of 'moly' have been made.\nCurtius suggests _mollis_, _molvis_, ~moly-s~, akin to ~malakos~,\n'soft.' This does not suit Mr. Brown, who, to begin with, is persuaded\nthat the herb is not a magical herb, _sans phrase_, like those which\nthe Hottentots use, but that the basis of the myth 'is simply the\neffect of night upon the world of day.' Now, as moly is a name in use\namong the gods, Mr. Brown thinks 'we may fairly examine the hypothesis\nof a foreign origin of the term.' Any one who holds that certain Greek\ngods were borrowed from abroad, may be allowed to believe that the\ngods used foreign words, and, as Mr. Brown points out, there are\nforeign elements in various Homeric names of imported articles,\npeoples, persons, and so forth. Where, then, is a foreign word like\nmoly, which might have reached Homer? By a long process of research,\nMr. Brown finds his word in ancient 'Akkadian.' From Professor Sayce\nhe borrows a reference to Apuleius Barbarus, about whose life nothing\nis known, and whose date is vague. Apuleius Barbarus may have lived\nabout four centuries after our era, and _he_ says that 'wild rue was\ncalled moly by the Cappadocians.' Rue, like rosemary, and indeed like\nmost herbs, has its magical repute, and if we supposed that Homer's\nmoly was rue, there would be some interest in the knowledge. Rue was\ncalled 'herb of grace' in English, holy water was sprinkled with it,\nand the name is a translation of Homer's ~pharmakon esthlon~. Perhaps\nrue was used in sprinkling, because in pre-Christian times rue had, by\nitself, power against sprites and powers of evil. Our ancestors may\nhave thought it as well to combine the old charm of rue and the new\nChristian potency of holy water. Thus there would be a distinct\nanalogy between Homeric moly and English 'herb of grace.'\n\n'Euphrasy and rue' were employed to purge and purify mortal eyes.\nPliny is very learned about the magical virtues of rue. Just as the\nstolen potato is sovereign for rheumatism, so 'rue stolen thriveth the\nbest.' The Samoans think that their most valued vegetables were stolen\nfrom heaven by a Samoan visitor.[167] It is remarkable that rue,\naccording to Pliny, is killed by the touch of a woman in the same way\nas, according to Josephus, the mandrake is tamed.[168] These passages\nprove that the classical peoples had the same extraordinary\nsuperstitions about women as the Bushmen and Red Indians. Indeed\nPliny[169] describes a magical manner of defending the crops from\nblight, by aid of women, which is actually practised in America by the\nRed Men.[170]\n\nHere, then, are proofs enough that rue was magical outside of\nCappadocia. But this is not an argument on Mr. Brown's lines. The\nCappadocians called rue 'moly'; what language, he asks, was spoken by\nthe Cappadocians? Prof. Sayce (who knows so many tongues) says that\n'we know next to nothing of the language of the Cappadocians, or of\nthe Moschi who lived in the same locality.' But where Prof. Sayce is,\nthe Hittites, if we may say so respectfully, are not very far off. In\nthis case he thinks the Moschi (though he admits we know next to\nnothing about it) 'seem to have spoken a language allied to that of\nthe Cappadocians and Hittites.' That is to say, it is not impossible\nthat the language of the Moschi, about which next to nothing is known,\nmay have been allied to that of the Cappadocians, about which we know\nnext to nothing. All that we do know in this case is, that four\nhundred years after Christ the dwellers in Cappadocia employed a word\n'moly,' which had been Greek for at least twelve hundred years. But\nMr. Brown goes on to quote that one of the languages of which we know\nnext to nothing, Hittite, was 'probably allied to Proto-Armenian, and\nperhaps Lykian, and was above all not Semitic.' In any case 'the\ncuneiform mode of writing was used in Cappadocia at an early period.'\nAs even Professor Sayce declines to give more than a tentative reading\nof a Cappadocian cuneiform inscription, it seems highly rash to seek\nin this direction for an interpretation of a Homeric word 'moly,' used\nin Cappadocia very many centuries after the tablets were scratched.\nBut, on the evidence of the Babylonian character of the cuneiform\nwriting on Cappadocian tablets, Mr. Brown establishes a connection\nbetween the people of Accadia (who probably introduced the cuneiform\nstyle) and the people of Cappadocia. The connection amounts to this.\nTwelve hundred years after Homer, the inhabitants of Cappadocia are\nsaid to have called rue 'moly.' At some unknown period, the Accadians\nappear to have influenced the art of writing in Cappadocia. Apparently\nMr. Brown thinks it not too rash to infer that the Cappadocian use of\nthe word 'moly' is not derived from the Greeks, but from the\nAccadians. Now in Accadian, according to Mr. Brown, _mul_ means\n'star.' 'Hence _ulu_ or _mulu_ = ~moly~, the mysterious Homerik\ncounter-charm to the charms of Kirke' (p. 60). Mr. Brown's theory,\ntherefore, is that moly originally meant 'star.' Circe is the moon,\nOdysseus is the sun, and 'what _watches over_ the solar hero at night\nwhen exposed to the hostile lunar power, but the stars?' especially\nthe dog-star.\n\nThe truth is, that Homer's moly, whatever plant he meant by the name,\nis only one of the magical herbs in which most peoples believe or have\nbelieved. Like the Scottish rowan, or like St. John's wort, it is\npotent against evil influences. People have their own simple reasons\nfor believing in these plants, and have not needed to bring down their\nhumble, early botany from the clouds and stars. We have to imagine, on\nthe other hand (if we follow Mr. Brown), that in some unknown past the\nCappadocians turned the Accadian word for a star into a local name of\na plant, that this word reached Homer, that the supposed old Accadian\nmyth of the star which watches over the solar hero retained its\nvitality in Greek, and leaving the star clung to the herb, that Homer\nused an 'Akkado-Kappadokian' myth, and that, many ages after, the\nAccadian star-name in its perverted sense of 'rue' survived in\nCappadocia. This structure of argument is based on tablets which even\nProf. Sayce cannot read, and on possibilities about the alliances of\ntongues concerning which we 'know next to nothing.' A method which\nleaves on one side the common, natural, widely-diffused beliefs about\nthe magic virtue of herbs (beliefs which we have seen at work in\nKensington and in Central Africa), to hunt for moly among stars and\nundeciphered Kappadokian inscriptions, seems a dubious method. We have\nexamined it at full length because it is a specimen of an erudite,\nbut, as we think, a mistaken way in folklore. M. Halevy's warnings\nagainst the shifting mythical theories based on sciences so new as the\nlore of Assyria and 'Akkadia' are by no means superfluous. 'Akkadian'\nis rapidly become as ready a key to all locks as 'Aryan' was a few\nyears ago.[171]\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[157] Grimm, _D. M._, Engl. transl., p. 1202.\n\n[158] _Tom Sawyer_, p. 87.\n\n[159] _Rep._, vi. 488. Dem., 10, 6.\n\n[160] _Journal Anthrop. Inst._, Feb., 1881.\n\n[161] Gregor, _Folklore of North-east Counties_, p. 40.\n\n[162] _Wars of Jews_, vii. 6, 3.\n\n[163] _Var. Hist._, 14, 27.\n\n[164] Max Mueller, _Selected Essays_, ii. 622.\n\n[165] There is no end to Aryan parallels of savage practices. The\nfamous soma of the Veda is apparently now used like the Hottentot\nroots. By the Zoroastrians 'it is used at incantations and sacrifices,\nand thrown into the fire.' See Mr. Hootum Schindler, _Academy_, Jan.\n31, 1885, p. 83.\n\n[166] _Myth of Kirke_, p. 80.\n\n[167] Turner's _Samoa_.\n\n[168] Josephus, _loc. cit._ For this, and many other references, I am\nindebted to Schwartz's _Praehistorisch-anthropologische Studien_. In\nmost magic herbs the learned author recognises thunder and\nlightning--a theory no less plausible than Mr. Brown's.\n\n[169] Lib. xxviii.\n\n[170] Schoolcraft, v.\n\n[171] Mr. Brown (_Academy_, Jan. 3, 1885) says he freely acknowledges\nthat his 'suggestion might be quite incorrect'--which seems\npossible--and that 'if Odysseus and Kirke were sun and moon here is a\ngood starting-point for the theory that the moly was stellar.' This\nreminds one of the preacher who demonstrated the existence of the\nTrinity thus: 'For is there not, my brethren, one sun, and one\nmoon,--and one multitude of stars?'\n\n\n\n\n_'KALEVALA'; OR, THE FINNISH NATIONAL EPIC._\n\n\nIt is difficult to account for the fact that the scientific curiosity\nwhich is just now so busy in examining all the monuments of the\nprimitive condition of our race, should, in England at least, have\nalmost totally neglected to popularise the 'Kalevala,' or national\npoem of the Finns. Besides its fresh and simple beauty of style, its\nworth as a storehouse of every kind of primitive folklore, being as it\nis the production of an _Urvolk_, a nation that has undergone no\nviolent revolution in language or institutions--the 'Kalevala' has the\npeculiar interest of occupying a position between the two kinds of\nprimitive poetry, the ballad and the epic. So much difficulty has been\nintroduced into the study of the first developments of song, by\nconfusing these distinct sorts of composition under the name of\npopular poetry, that it may be well, in writing of a poem which\noccupies a middle place between epic and ballad, to define what we\nmean by each.\n\nThe author of our old English _Art of Poesie_ begins his work with a\nstatement which may serve as a text: 'Poesie,' says Puttenham, writing\nin 1589, 'is more ancient than the _artificiall_ of the Greeks and\nLatines, coming by instinct of nature, and used by the savage and\nuncivill, who were before all science and civilitie. This is proved by\ncertificate of merchants and travellers, who by late navigations have\nsurveyed the whole world, and discovered large countries, and strange\npeople, wild and savage, affirming that the American, the Perusine,\nand the very canniball, do sing, and also say, their highest and\nholiest matters in certain riming versicles.' Puttenham is here\nreferring to that instinct of primitive men, which compels them in all\nmoments of high-wrought feeling, and on all solemn occasions, to give\nutterance to a kind of chant.[172] Such a chant is the song of Lamech,\nwhen he had 'slain a man to his wounding.' So in the Norse sagas,\nGrettir and Gunnar _sing_ when they have anything particular to say;\nand so in the _Maerchen_--the primitive fairy tales of all\nnations--scraps of verse are introduced where emphasis is wanted. This\ncraving for passionate expression takes a more formal shape in the\nlays which among all primitive peoples, as among the modern Greeks\nto-day,[173] are sung at betrothals, funerals, and departures for\ndistant lands. These songs have been collected in Scotland by Scott\nand Motherwell; their Danish counterparts have been translated by Mr.\nPrior. In Greece, M. Fauriel and Dr. Ulrichs; in Provence, Damase\nArbaud; in Italy, M. Nigra; in Servia, Talvj; in France, Gerard de\nNerval--have done for their separate countries what Scott did for the\nBorder. Professor Child, of Harvard, is publishing a beautiful\ncritical collection of English _Volkslieder_, with all known variants\nfrom every country.\n\nA comparison of the collections proves that among all European lands\nthe primitive 'versicles' of the people are identical in tone, form,\nand incident. It is this kind of early expression of a people's\nlife--careless, abrupt, brief, as was necessitated by the fact that\nthey were sung to the accompaniment of the dance--that we call\nballads. These are distinctly, and in every sense, popular poems, and\nnothing can cause greater confusion than to apply the same title,\n'popular,' to early epic poetry. Ballads are short; a long ballad, as\nMr. Matthew Arnold has said, creeps and halts. A true epic, on the\nother hand, is long, and its tone is grand, noble, and sustained.\nBallads are not artistic; while the form of the epic, whether we take\nthe hexameter or the rougher _laisse_ of the French _chansons de\ngeste_, is full of conscious and admirable art. Lastly, popular\nballads deal with vague characters, acting and living in vague places;\nwhile the characters of an epic are heroes of definite station, _whose\ndescendants are still in the land_, whose home is a recognisable\nplace, Ithaca, or Argos. Now, though these two kinds of early\npoetry--the ballad, the song of the people; the epic, the song of the\nchiefs of the people, of the ruling race--are distinct in kind, it\ndoes not follow that they have no connection, that the nobler may not\nhave been developed out of the materials of the lower form of\nexpression. And the value of the 'Kalevala' is partly this, that it\ncombines the continuity and unison of the epic with the simplicity and\npopularity of the ballad, and so forms a kind of link in the history\nof the development of poetry. This may become clearer as we proceed to\nexplain the literary history of the Finnish national poem.\n\nSixty years ago, it may be said, no one was aware that Finland\npossessed a national poem at all. Her people--who claim affinity with\nthe Magyars of Hungary, but are possibly a back-wave of an earlier\ntide of population--had remained untouched by foreign influences since\ntheir conquest by Sweden, and their somewhat lax and wholesale\nconversion to Christianity: events which took place gradually between\nthe middle of the twelfth and the end of the thirteenth centuries.\nUnder the rule of Sweden, the Finns were left to their quiet life and\nundisturbed imaginings, among the forests and lakes of the region\nwhich they aptly called Pohja, 'the ends of things'; while their\neducated classes took no very keen interest in the native poetry and\nmythology of their race. At length the annexation of Finland by\nRussia, in 1809, awakened national feeling, and stimulated research\ninto songs and customs which were the heirlooms of the people.\n\nIt was the policy of Russia to encourage, rather than to check, this\nreturn on a distant past; and from the north of Norway to the slopes\nof the Altai, ardent explorers sought out the fragments of unwritten\nearly poetry. These runes, or _Runots_, were chiefly sung by old men\ncalled _Runoias_, to beguile the weariness of the long dark winters.\nThe custom was for two champions to engage in a contest of memory,\nclasping each other's hands, and reciting in turn till he whose\nmemory first gave in slackened his hold. The 'Kalevala' contains an\ninstance of this practice, where it is said that no one was so hardy\nas to clasp hands with Waeinaemoeinen, who is at once the Orpheus and the\nPrometheus of Finnish mythology. These Runoias, or rhapsodists,\ncomplain, of course, of the degeneracy of human memory; they notice\nhow any foreign influence, in religion or politics, is destructive to\nthe native songs of a race.[174] 'As for the lays of old time, a\nthousand have been scattered to the wind, a thousand buried in the\nsnow; ... as for those which the Munks (the Teutonic knights) swept\naway and the prayer of the priests overwhelmed, a thousand tongues\nwere not able to recount them.' In spite of the losses thus caused,\nand in spite of the suspicious character of the Finns, which often\nmade the task of collection a dangerous one, enough materials remained\nto furnish Dr. Loennrot, the most noted explorer, with thirty-five\n_Runots_, or cantos. These were published in 1835, but later research\nproduced the fifteen cantos which make up the symmetrical fifty of the\n'Kalevala.' In the task of arranging and uniting these, Dr. Loennrot\nplayed the part traditionally ascribed to the commission of\nPisistratus in relation to the _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_. Dr. Loennrot cut\nabout and altered at pleasure the materials which come before us as\none poem. They have little unity now, and originally had none.\n\nIt cannot be doubted that, at whatever period the Homeric poems took\nshape in Greece, they were believed to record the feats of the\nsupposed ancestors of existing families. Thus, for example,\nPisistratus, as a descendant of the Nelidae, had an interest in\nsecuring certain parts, at least, of the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_\nfrom oblivion. The same family pride embellished and preserved the\nepic poetry of early France. There were in France but three heroic\nhouses, or _gestes_; and three corresponding cycles of _epopees_. Now,\nin the 'Kalevala,' there is no trace of the influence of family\nfeeling; it was no one's peculiar care and pride to watch over the\nrecords of the fame of this or that hero. The poem begins with a\ncosmogony as wild as any Indian dream of creation; and the human\ncharacters who move in the story are shadowy inhabitants of no very\ndefinite lands, whom no family claim as their forefathers. The very\nwant of this idea of family and aristocratic pride gives the\n'Kalevala' a unique place among epics. It is emphatically an epic of\nthe people, of that class whose life contains no element of progress,\nno break in continuity; which from age to age preserves, in solitude\nand close communion with nature, the earliest beliefs of grey\nantiquity. The Greek epic, on the other hand, has, as Preller[175]\npoints out, 'nothing to do with natural man, but with an ideal world\nof heroes, with sons of the gods, with consecrated kings, heroes,\nelders, _a kind of specific race of men_. The people exist only as\nsubsidiary to the great houses, as a mere background against which\nstand out the shining figures of heroes; as a race of beings fresh and\nrough from the hands of nature, with whom, and with whose concerns,\nthe great houses and their bards have little concern.' This\nfeeling--so universal in Greece, and in the feudal countries of\nmediaeval Europe, that there are two kinds of men, the golden and the\nbrazen race, as Plato would have called them--is absent, with all its\nresults, in the 'Kalevala.'\n\nAmong the Finns we find no trace of an aristocracy; there is scarcely\na mention of kings, or priests; the heroes of the poem are really\npopular heroes, fishers, smiths, husbandmen, 'medicine-men,' or\nwizards; exaggerated shadows of the people, pursuing on a heroic\nscale, not war, but the common daily business of primitive and\npeaceful men. In recording their adventures, the 'Kalevala,' like the\nshield of Achilles, reflects all the life of a race, the feasts, the\nfunerals, the rites of seed-time and harvest, of marriage and death,\nthe hymn, and the magical incantation.\n\nThough without the interest of an unique position as a popular epic,\nthe 'Kalevala' is very valuable, both for its literary beauties and\nfor the confused mass of folklore which it contains.\n\nHere old cosmogonies, attempts of man to represent to himself the\nbeginning of things, are mingled with the same wild imaginings as are\nfound everywhere in the shape of fairy-tales. We are hurried from an\naccount of the mystic egg of creation, to a hymn like that of the\nAmbarval Brothers, to a strangely familiar scrap of a nursery story,\nto an incident which we remember as occurring in almost identical\nwords in a Scotch ballad. We are among a people which endows\neverything with human characters and life, which is in familiar\nrelations with birds, and beasts, and even with rocks and plants.\nRavens and wolves and fishes of the sea, sun, moon, and stars, are\nkindly or churlish; drops of blood find speech, man and maid change to\nsnake or swan and resume their forms, ships have magic powers, like\nthe ships of the Phaeacians.\n\nThen there is the oddest confusion of every stage of religious\ndevelopment: we find a supreme God, delighting in righteousness; Ukko,\nthe lord of the vault of air, who stands apart from men, and sends his\nson, Waeinaemoeinen, to be their teacher in music and agriculture.\n\nAcross this faith comes a religion of petrified abstractions like\nthose of the Roman Pantheon. There are gods of colour, a goddess of\nweaving, a goddess of man's blood, besides elemental spirits of woods\nand waters, and the _manes_ of the dead. Meanwhile the working faith\nof the people is the belief in magic--generally a sign of the lower\nculture. It is supposed that the knowledge of certain magic words\ngives power over the elemental bodies which obey them; it is held\nthat the will of a distant sorcerer can cross the lakes and plains\nlike the breath of a fantastic frost, with power to change an enemy to\nice or stone. Traces remain of the worship of animals: there is a hymn\nto the bear; a dance like the bear-dance of the American Indians; and\nanother hymn tells of the birth and power of the serpent. Across all,\nand closing all, comes a hostile account of the origin of\nChristianity--the end of joy and music.\n\nHow primitive was the condition of the authors of this medley of\nbeliefs is best proved by the survival of the custom called\nexogamy.[176] This custom, which is not peculiar to the Finns, but is\nprobably a universal note of early society, prohibits marriage between\nmembers of the same tribe. Consequently, the main action, such as it\nis, of the 'Kalevala' turns on the efforts made by the men of Kaleva\nto obtain brides from the hostile tribe of Pohja.[177]\n\nFurther proof of ancient origin is to be found in what is the great\nliterary beauty of the poem--its pure spontaneity and simplicity. It\nis the production of an intensely imaginative race, to which song came\nas the most natural expression of joy and sorrow, terror or\ntriumph--a class which lay near to nature's secret, and was not out of\nsympathy with the wild kin of woods and waters.\n\n    'These songs,' says the prelude, 'were found by the wayside,\n    and gathered in the depths of the copses; blown from the\n    branches of the forest, and culled among the plumes of the\n    pine-trees. These lays came to me as I followed the flocks,\n    in a land of meadows honey-sweet and of golden hills.... The\n    cold has spoken to me, and the rain has told me her runes;\n    the winds of heaven, the waves of the sea, have spoken and\n    sung to me; the wild birds have taught me, the music of many\n    waters has been my master.'\n\nThe metre in which the epic is chanted resembles, to an English ear,\nthat of Mr. Longfellow's 'Hiawatha'--there is assonance rather than\nrhyme; and a very musical effect is produced by the liquid character\nof the language, and by the frequent alliterations.\n\nThis rough outline of the main characteristics of the 'Kalevala' we\nshall now try to fill up with an abstract of its contents. The poem is\nlonger than the _Iliad_, and much of interest must necessarily be\nomitted; but it is only through such an abstract that any idea can be\ngiven of the sort of unity which does prevail amid the most utter\ndiscrepancy.\n\nIn the first place, what is to be understood by the word 'Kalevala'?\nThe affix _la_ signifies 'abode.' Thus, 'Tuonela' is 'the abode of\nTuoni,' the god of the lower world; and as 'kaleva' means 'heroic,'\n'magnificent,' 'Kalevala' is 'The Home of Heroes.' The poem is the\nrecord of the adventures of the people of Kalevala--of their strife\nwith the men of Pohjola, the place of the world's end. We may fancy\ntwo old Runoias, or singers, clasping hands on one of the first nights\nof the Finnish winter, and beginning (what probably has never been\naccomplished) the attempt to work through the 'Kalevala' before the\nreturn of summer. They commence _ab ovo_, or, rather, before the egg.\nFirst is chanted the birth of Waeinaemoeinen, the benefactor and teacher\nof men. He is the son of Luonnotar, the daughter of Nature, who\nanswers to the first woman of the Iroquois cosmogony. Beneath the\nbreath and touch of wind and tide, she conceived a child; but nine\nages of man passed before his birth, while the mother floated on 'the\nformless and the multiform waters.' Then Ukko, the supreme God, sent\nan eagle, which laid her eggs in the maiden's bosom, and from these\neggs grew earth and sky, sun and moon, star and cloud. Then was\nWaeinaemoeinen born on the waters, and reached a barren land, and gazed\non the new heavens and the new earth. There he sowed the grain that is\nthe bread of man, chanting the hymn used at seed-time, calling on the\nmother earth to make the green herb spring, and on Ukko to send down\nclouds and rain. So the corn sprang, and the golden cuckoo--which in\nFinland plays the part of the popinjay in Scotch ballads, or of the\nthree golden birds in Greek folk-songs--came with his congratulations.\nIn regard to the epithet 'golden,' it may be observed that gold and\nsilver, in the Finnish epic, are lavished on the commonest objects of\ndaily life.\n\nThis is a universal note of primitive poetry, and is not a peculiar\nFinnish idiom, as M. Leouzon le Duc supposes; nor, as Mr. Tozer seems\nto think, in his account of Romaic ballads, a trace of Oriental\ninfluence among the modern Greeks. It is common to all the ballads of\nEurope, as M. Ampere has pointed out, and may be observed in the\n'Chanson de Roland,' and in Homer.\n\nWhile the corn ripened, Waeinaemoeinen rested from his labours, and took\nthe task of Orpheus. 'He sang,' says the 'Kalevala,' of the origin of\nthings, of the mysteries hidden from babes, that none may attain to in\nthis sad life, in the hours of these perishable days. The fame of the\nRunoia's singing excited jealousy in the breast of one of the men\naround him, of whose origin the 'Kalevala' gives no account. This man,\nJoukahainen, provoked him to a trial of song, boasting, like\nEmpedocles, or like one of the old Celtic bards, that he had been all\nthings. 'When the earth was made I was there; when space was unrolled\nI launched the sun on his way.' Then was Waeinaemoeinen wroth, and by the\nforce of his enchantment he rooted Joukahainen to the ground, and\nsuffered him not to go free without promising him the hand of his\nsister Aino. The mother was delighted; but the girl wept that she must\nnow cover her long locks, her curls, her glory, and be the wife of\n'the old imperturbable Waeinaemoeinen.' It is in vain that her mother\noffers her dainty food and rich dresses; she flees from home, and\nwanders till she meets three maidens bathing, and joins them, and is\ndrowned, singing a sad song: 'Ah, never may my sister come to bathe in\nthe sea-water, for the drops of the sea are the drops of my blood.'\nThis wild idea occurs in the Romaic ballad, ~he kore taxideutria~,\nwhere a drop of blood on the lips of the drowned girl tinges all the\nwaters of the world. To return to the fate of Aino. A swift hare runs\n(as in the Zulu legend of the Origin of Death) with the tale of sorrow\nto the maiden's mother, and from the mother's tears flow rivers of\nwater, and therein are isles with golden hills where golden birds make\nmelody. As for the old, the imperturbable Runoia, he loses his claim\nto the latter title, he is filled with sorrow, and searches through\nall the elements for his lost bride. At length he catches a fish which\nis unknown to him, who, like Atlas, 'knew the depths of all the seas.'\nThe strange fish slips from his hands, a 'tress of hair, of drowned\nmaiden's hair,' floats for a moment on the foam, and too late he\nrecognises that 'there was never salmon yet that shone so fair, above\nthe nets at sea.' His lost bride has been within his reach, and now is\ndoubly lost to him. Suddenly the waves are cloven asunder, and the\nmother of Nature and of Waeinaemoeinen appears, to comfort her son, like\nThetis from the deep. She bids him go and seek, in the land of\nPohjola, a bride alien to his race. After many a wild adventure,\nWaeinaemoeinen reaches Pohjola and is kindly entreated by Loutri, the\nmother of the maiden of the land. But he grows homesick, and\ncomplains, almost in Dante's words, of the bitter bread of exile.\nLoutri will only grant him her daughter's hand on condition that he\ngives her a _sampo_. A sampo is a mysterious engine that grinds meal,\nsalt, and money. In fact, it is the mill in the well-known fairy tale,\n_Why the Sea is Salt_.[178]\n\nWaeinaemoeinen cannot fashion this mill himself, he must seek aid at home\nfrom Ilmarinen, the smith who forged 'the iron vault of hollow\nheaven.' As the hero returns to Kalevala, he meets the Lady of the\nRainbow, seated on the arch of the sky, weaving the golden thread. She\npromises to be his, if he will accomplish certain tasks, and in the\ncourse of those he wounds himself with an axe. The wound can only be\nhealed by one who knows the mystic words that hold the secret of the\nbirth of iron. The legend of this evil birth, how iron grew from the\nmilk of a maiden, and was forged by the primeval smith, Ilmarinen, to\nbe the bane of warlike men, is communicated by Waeinaemoeinen to an old\nmagician. The wizard then solemnly curses the iron, _as a living\nthing_, and invokes the aid of the supreme God Ukko, thus bringing\ntogether in one prayer the extremes of early religion. Then the hero\nis healed, and gives thanks to the Creator, 'in whose hands is the end\nof a matter.'\n\nReturning to Kalevala, Waeinaemoeinen sends Ilmarinen to Pohjola to make\nthe sampo, 'a mill for corn one day, for salt the next, for money the\nnext.' The fatal treasure is concealed by Loutri, and is obviously to\nplay the part of the fairy hoard in the 'Nibelungen Lied.'\n\nWith the eleventh canto a new hero, Ahti, or Lemminkainen, and a new\ncycle of adventures, is abruptly introduced. Lemminkainen is a\nprofligate wanderer, with as many loves as Hercules. The fact that he\nis regarded as a form of the sea-god makes it strange that his most\nnoted achievement, the seduction of the whole female population of his\nisland, should correspond with a like feat of Krishna's. 'Sixteen\nthousand and one hundred,' says the Vishnu Purana, 'was the number of\nthe maidens; and into so many forms did the son of Madhu multiply\nhimself, so that every one of the damsels thought that he had wedded\nher in her single person.' Krishna is the sun, perhaps, and the\nmaidens are the dew-drops; it is to be hoped that Lemminkainen's\nconnection with sea-water may save him from the solar hypothesis. His\nfirst regular marriage is unhappy, and he is slain in trying to\ncapture a bride from the people of Pohjola. The black waters of the\nriver of forgetfulness sweep him away, and his comb, which he left\nwith his mother, bursts out bleeding--a frequent incident in Russian\nand other fairy tales. In many household tales, the hero, before\nsetting out on a journey, erects a stick which will fall down when he\nis in distress, or death. The natives of Australia use this form of\ndivination in actual practice, tying round the stick some of the hair\nof the person whose fate is to be ascertained. Then, like Demeter\nseeking Persephone, the mother questions all the beings of the world,\nand their answers show a wonderful poetic sympathy with the silent\nlife of Nature. 'The moon said, I have sorrows enough of my own,\nwithout thinking of thy child. My lot is hard, my days are evil. I am\nborn to wander companionless in the night, to shine in the season of\nfrost, to watch through the endless winter, to fade when summer comes\nas king.' The sun is kinder, and reveals the place of the hero's body.\nThe mother collects the scattered limbs, the birds bring healing balm\nfrom the heights of heaven, and after a hymn to the goddess of man's\nblood, Lemminkainen is made sound and well, as the scattered\n'fragments of no more a man' were united by the spell of Medea, like\nthose of Osiris by Isis, or of the fair countess by the demon\nblacksmith in the Russian _Maerchen_, or of the Carib hero mentioned by\nMr. M'Lennan,[179] or of the ox in the South African household tale.\n\nWith the sixteenth canto we turn to Waeinaemoeinen, who, like all epic\nheroes, visits the place of the dead, Tuonela. The maidens who play\nthe part of Charon are with difficulty induced to ferry over a man\nbearing no mark of death by fire or sword or water. Once among the\ndead, Waeinaemoeinen refuses--being wiser than Psyche or Persephone--to\ntaste of drink. This 'taboo' is found in Japanese, Melanesian, and Red\nIndian accounts of the homes of the dead. Thus the hero is able to\nreturn and behold the stars. Arrived in the upper world, he warns men\nto 'beware of perverting innocence, of leading astray the pure of\nheart; they that do these things shall be punished eternally in the\ndepths of Tuoni. There is a place prepared for evil-doers, a bed of\nstones burning, rocks of fire, worms and serpents.' This speech throws\nbut little light on the question of how far a doctrine of rewards and\npunishments enters into primitive ideas of a future state. The\n'Kalevala,' as we possess it, is necessarily, though faintly, tinged\nwith Christianity; and the peculiar vices which are here threatened\nwith punishment are not those which would have been most likely to\noccur to the early heathen singers of this _runot_.\n\nWaeinaemoeinen and Ilmarinen now go together to Pohjola, but the fickle\nmaiden of the land prefers the young forger of the sampo to his elder\nand imperturbable companion. Like a northern Medea, or like the\nMaster-maid in Dr. Dasent's _Tales from the Norse_, or like the hero\nof the Algonquin tale and the Samoan ballad, she aids her alien lover\nto accomplish the tasks assigned to him. He ploughs with a plough of\ngold the adder-close, or field of serpents; he bridles the wolf and\nthe bear of the lower world, and catches the pike that swim in the\nwaters of forgetfulness. After this, the parents cannot refuse their\nconsent, the wedding-feast is prepared, and all the world, except the\n_seduisant_ Lemminkainen, is bidden to the banquet. The narrative now\nbrings in the ballads that are sung at a Finnish marriage.\n\nFirst, the son-in-law enters the house of the parents of the bride,\nsaying, 'Peace abide with you in this illustrious hall.' The mother\nanswers, 'Peace be with you even in this lowly hut.' Then Waeinaemoeinen\nbegan to sing, and no man was so hardy as to clasp hands and contend\nwith him in song. Next follow the songs of farewell, the mother\ntelling the daughter of what she will have to endure in a strange\nhome: 'Thy life was soft and delicate in thy father's house. Milk and\nbutter were ready to thy hand; thou wert as a flower of the field, as\na strawberry of the wood; all care was left to the pines of the\nforest, all wailing to the wind in the woods of barren lands. But now\nthou goest to another home, to an alien mother, to doors that grate\nstrangely on their hinges.' 'My thoughts,' the maiden replies, 'are as\na dark night of autumn, as a cloudy day of winter; my heart is sadder\nthan the autumn night, more weary than the winter day.' The maid and\nthe bridegroom are then lyrically instructed in their duties: the girl\nis to be long-suffering, the husband to try five years' gentle\ntreatment before he cuts a willow wand for his wife's correction. The\nbridal party sets out for home, a new feast is spread, and the\nbridegroom congratulated on the courage he must have shown in stealing\na girl from a hostile tribe.\n\nWhile all is merry, the mischievous Lemminkainen sets out, an unbidden\nguest, for Pohjola. On his way he encounters a serpent, which he slays\nby the song of serpent-charming. In this 'mystic chain of verse' the\nserpent is not addressed as the gentle reptile, god of southern\npeoples, but is spoken of with all hatred and loathing: 'Black\ncreeping thing of the low lands, monster flecked with the colours of\ndeath, thou that hast on thy skin the stain of the sterile soil, get\nthee forth from the path of a hero.' After slaying the serpent,\nLemminkainen reaches Pohjola, kills one of his hosts, and fixes his\nhead on one of a thousand stakes for human skulls that stood about\nthe house, as they might round the hut of a Dyak in Borneo. He then\nflees to the isle of Saari, whence he is driven for his heroic\nprofligacy, and by the hatred of the only girl whom he has _not_\nwronged. This is a very pretty touch of human nature.\n\nHe now meditates a new incursion into Pohjola. The mother of Pohjola\n(it is just worth noticing that the leadership assumed by this woman\npoints to a state of society when the family was scarcely formed)\ncalls to her aid 'her child the Frost'; but the frost is put to shame\nby a hymn of the invader's, a song against the Cold: 'The serpent was\nhis foster-mother, the serpent with her barren breasts; the wind of\nthe north rocked his cradle, and the ice-wind sang him to sleep, in\nthe midst of the wild marsh-land, where the wells of the waters\nbegin.' It is a curious instance of the animism, the vivid power of\npersonifying all the beings and forces of nature, which marks the\n'Kalevala,' that the Cold speaks to Lemminkainen in human voice, and\nseeks a reconciliation.\n\nAt this part of the epic there is an obvious lacuna. The story goes to\nKullervo, a luckless man, who serves as shepherd to Ilmarinen.\nThinking himself ill-treated by the heroic smith's wife, the shepherd\nchanges his flock into bears and wolves, which devour their mistress.\nThen he returns to his own home, where he learns that his sister has\nbeen lost for many days, and is believed to be dead. Travelling in\nsearch of her he meets a girl, loves her, and all unwittingly commits\nan inexpiable offence. 'Then,' says the 'Kalevala,' 'came up the new\ndawn, and the maiden spoke, saying, \"What is thy race, bold young\nman, and who is thy father?\" Kullervo said, \"I am the wretched son of\nKalerva; but tell me, what is thy race, and who is thy father?\" Then\nsaid the maiden, \"I am the wretched daughter of Kalerva. Ah! would God\nthat I had died, then might I have grown with the green grass, and\nblossomed with the flowers, and never known this sorrow.\" With this\nshe sprang into the midst of the foaming waves, and found peace in\nTuoni, and rest in the waters of forgetfulness.' Then there was no\nword for Kullervo, but the bitter moan of the brother in the terrible\nScotch ballad of the _Bonny Hind_, and no rest but in death by his own\nsword, where grass grows never on his sister's tomb.\n\nThe epic now draws to a close. Ilmarinen seeks a new wife in Pohja,\nand endeavours with Waeinaemoeinen's help to recover the mystic sampo. On\nthe voyage, the Runoia makes a harp out of the bones of a monstrous\nfish, so strange a harp that none may play it but himself. When he\nplayed, all four-footed things came about him, and the white birds\ndropped down 'like a storm of snow.' The maidens of the sun and the\nmoon paused in their weaving, and the golden thread fell from their\nhands. The Ancient One of the sea-water listened, and the nymphs of\nthe wells forgot to comb their loose locks with the golden combs. All\nmen and maidens and little children wept, amid the silent joy of\nnature; nay, the great harper wept, and _of his tears were pearls\nmade_.\n\nIn the war with Pohjola the heroes were victorious, but the sampo was\nbroken in the fight, and lost in the sea, and that, perhaps, is 'why\nthe sea is salt.' Fragments were collected, however, and Loutri,\nfurious at the success of the heroes of Kalevala, sent against them a\nbear, destructive as the boar of Calydon. But Waeinaemoeinen despatched\nthe monster, and the body was brought home with the bear-dance, and\nthe hymn of the bear. 'Oh, Otso,' cry the singers, 'be not angry that\nwe come near thee. The bear, the honey-footed bear, was born in lands\nbetween sun and moon, and he died not by men's hands, but of his own\nwill.' The Finnish savants are probably right, who find here a trace\nof the beast-worship which in many lands has placed the bear among the\nnumber of the stars. Propitiation of the bear is practised by Red\nIndians, by the Ainos of Japan, and (in the case of the 'native bear')\nby Australians. The Red Indians have a myth to prove that the bear is\nimmortal, does not die, but, after his apparent death, rises again in\nanother body. There is no trace, however, that the Finns claimed, like\nthe Danes, descent from the bear. The Lapps, a people of confused\nbelief, worshipped him along with Thor, Christ, the sun, and the\nserpent.[180]\n\nBut another cult, an alien creed, is approaching Kalevala. There is no\npart of the poem more strange than the closing canto, which tells in\nthe wildest language, and through the most exaggerated forms of savage\nimagination, the tale of the introduction of Christianity. Marjatta\nwas a maiden, 'as pure as the dew is, as holy as stars are that live\nwithout stain.' As she fed her flocks, and listened to the singing of\nthe golden cuckoo, a berry fell into her bosom. After many days she\nbore a child, and the people despised and rejected her, and she was\nthrust forth, and her babe was born in a stable, and cradled in the\nmanger. Who should baptise the babe? The god of the wilderness\nrefused, and Waeinaemoeinen would have had the young child slain. Then\nthe infant rebuked the ancient Demigod, who fled in anger to the sea,\nand with his magic song he built a magic barque, and he sat therein,\nand took the helm in his hand. The tide bore him out to sea, and he\nlifted his voice and sang: 'Times go by, and suns shall rise and set,\nand then shall men have need of me, and shall look for the promise of\nmy coming that I may make a new sampo, and a new harp, and bring back\nsunlight and moonshine, and the joy that is banished from the world.'\nThen he crossed the waters, and gained the limits of the sea, and the\nlower spaces of the sky.\n\nHere the strange poem ends at its strangest moment, with the cry,\nwhich must have been uttered so often, but is heard here alone, of a\npeople reluctantly deserting the gods that it has fashioned in its own\nlikeness, for a faith that has not sprung from its needs or fears. Yet\nit cherishes the hope that this tyranny shall pass over: 'they are\ngods, and behold they shall die, and the waves be upon them at last.'\n\nAs the 'Kalevala,' and as all relics of folklore, all _Maerchen_ and\nballads prove, the lower mythology--the elemental beliefs of the\npeople--do survive beneath a thin covering of Christian conformity.\nThere are, in fact, in religion, as in society, two worlds, of which\nthe one does not know how the other lives. The class whose literature\nwe inherit, under whose institutions we live, at whose shrines we\nworship, has changed as outworn raiment its manners, its gods, its\nlaws; has looked before and after, has hoped and forgotten, has\nadvanced from the wilder and grosser to the purest faith. Beneath the\nprogressive class, and beneath the waves of this troublesome world,\nthere exists an order whose primitive form of human life has been far\nless changeful, a class which has put on a mere semblance of new\nfaiths, while half-consciously retaining the remains of immemorial\ncults.\n\nObviously, as M. Fauriel has pointed out in the case of the modern\nGreeks, the life of such folk contains no element of progress, admits\nno break in continuity. Conquering armies pass and leave them still\nreaping the harvest of field and river; religions appear, and they are\nbaptised by thousands, but the lower beliefs and dreads that the\nprogressive class has outgrown remain unchanged.\n\nThus, to take the instance of modern Greece, the high gods of the\ndivine race of Achilles and Agamemnon are forgotten, but the\ndescendants of the Penestae, the _villeins_ of Thessaly, still dread\nthe beings of the popular creed, the Nereids, the Cyclopes, and the\nLamia.[181]\n\nThe last lesson we would attempt to gather from the 'Kalevala' is\nthis: that a comparison of the _thoroughly popular_ beliefs of all\ncountries, the beliefs cherished by the non-literary classes whose\nballads and fairy tales have only recently been collected, would\nprobably reveal a general identity, concealed by diversity of name,\namong the 'lesser people of the skies,' the elves, fairies, cyclopes,\ngiants, nereids, brownies, lamiae. It could then be shown that some of\nthese spirits survive among the lower beings of the mythology of what\nthe Germans call a _cultur-volk_ like the Greeks or Romans. It could\nalso be proved that much of the narrative element in the classic epics\nis to be found in a popular or childish form in primitive fairy tales.\nThe question would then come to be, Have the higher mythologies been\ndeveloped, by artistic poets, out of the materials of a race which\nremained comparatively untouched by culture; or are the lower spirits,\nand the more simple and puerile forms of myth, degradations of the\ninventions of a cultivated class? In the majority of cases, the former\ntheory is correct.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[172] Talvj, _Charakteristik der Volkslieder_, p. 3.\n\n[173] Fauriel, _Chants de la Grece moderne_.\n\n[174] Thus Scotland scarcely produced any ballads, properly speaking,\nafter the Reformation. The Kirk suppressed the dances to whose motion\nthe ballad was sung in Scotland, as in Greece, Provence, and France.\n\n[175] L. Preller's _Ausgewaehlte Aufsaetze_. Greek ideas on the origin\nof Man. It is curious that the myth of a gold, a silver, and a copper\nrace occurs in South America. See Brasseur de Bourbourg's _Notes on\nthe Popol Vuh_.\n\n[176] See essay on _Early History of the Family_.\n\n[177] This constant struggle may be, and of course by one school of\ncomparative mythologists will be, represented as the strife between\nlight and darkness, the sun's rays, and the clouds of night, and so\non. M. Castren has well pointed out that the struggle has really an\nhistorical meaning. Even if the myth be an elementary one, its\nconstructors must have been in the exogamous stage of society.\n\n[178] Sampo _may_ be derived from a Thibetan word, meaning 'fountain\nof good,' or it may possibly be connected with the Swedish _stamp_, a\nhand-mill. The talisman is made of all the quaint odds and ends that\nthe Fetichist treasures, swan's feathers, flocks of wool, and so on.\n\n[179] _Fortnightly Review_, 1869: 'The Worship of Plants and Animals.'\n\n[180] Mr. M'Lennan in the _Fortnightly Review_, February, 1870.\n\n[181] M. Schmidt, _Volksleben der Neugriechen_, finds comparatively\nfew traces of the worship of Zeus, and these mainly in proverbial\nexpressions.\n\n\n\n\n_THE DIVINING ROD._\n\n\nThere is something remarkable, and not flattering to human sagacity,\nin the periodical resurrection of superstitions. Houses, for example,\ngo on being 'haunted' in country districts, and no educated man\nnotices the circumstance. Then comes a case like that of the Drummer\nof Tedworth, or the Cock Lane Ghost, and society is deeply moved,\nphilosophers plunge into controversy, and he who grubs among the dusty\ntracts of the past finds a world of fugitive literature on forgotten\nbogies. Chairs move untouched by human hands, and tables walk about in\nlonely castles of Savoy, and no one marks them, till a day comes when\nthe furniture of some American cottage is similarly afflicted, and\nthen a shoddy new religion is based on the phenomenon. The latest\nrevival among old beliefs is faith in the divining rod. 'Our liberal\nshepherds give it a _shorter_ name,' and so do our conservative\npeasants, calling the 'rod of Jacob' the 'twig.' To 'work the twig' is\nrural English for the craft of Dousterswivel in the _Antiquary_, and\nperhaps from this comes our slang expression to 'twig,' or divine, the\nhidden meaning of another. Recent correspondence in the newspapers has\nproved that, whatever may be the truth about the 'twig,' belief in\nits powers is still very prevalent. Respectable people are not ashamed\nto bear signed witness to its miraculous powers of detecting springs\nof water and secret mines. It is habitually used by the miners in the\nMendips, as Mr. Woodward found ten years ago; and forked hazel\ndivining rods from the Mendips are a recognised part of ethnological\ncollections. There are two ways of investigating the facts or fancies\nabout the rod. One is to examine it in its actual operation--a task of\nconsiderable labour, which will doubtless be undertaken by the Society\nfor Psychical Research; the other, and easier, way is to study the\nappearances of the divining wand in history, and that is what we\npropose to do in this article.\n\nWhen a superstition or belief is widely spread in Europe, as the faith\nin the divining rod certainly is (in Germany rods are hidden under\nbabies' clothes when they are baptised), we naturally expect to find\ntraces of it in ancient times and among savages all over the modern\nworld. We have already examined in 'The Bull-Roarer' a very similar\nexample. We saw that there is a magical instrument--a small\nfish-shaped piece of thin flat wood tied to a thong--which, when\nwhirled in the air, produces a strange noise, a compound of roar and\nbuzz. This instrument is sacred among the natives of Australia, where\nit is used to call together the men, and to frighten away the women\nfrom the religious mysteries of the males. The same instrument is\nemployed for similar purposes in New Mexico, and in South Africa and\nNew Zealand--parts of the world very widely distant from each other,\nand inhabited by very diverse races. It has also been lately\ndiscovered that the Greeks used this toy, which they called ~rhombos~,\nin the Mysteries of Dionysus, and possibly it may be identical with\nthe _mystica vannus Iacchi_ (Virgil, _Georgics_, i. 166). The\nconclusion drawn by the ethnologist is that this object, called\n_turndun_ by the Australians, is a very early savage invention,\nprobably discovered and applied to religious purposes in various\nseparate centres, and retained from the age of savagery in the mystic\nrites of Greeks and perhaps of Romans. Well, do we find anything\nanalogous in the case of the divining rod?\n\nFuture researches may increase our knowledge, but at present little or\nnothing is known of the divining rod in classical ages, and not very\nmuch (though that little is significant) among uncivilised races. It\nis true that in all countries rods or wands, the Latin _virga_, have a\nmagical power. Virgil obtained his mediaeval repute as a wizard because\nhis name was erroneously connected with _virgula_, the magic wand. But\nwe do not actually know that the ancient wand of the enchantress\nCirce, in Homer, or the wand of Hermes, was used, like the divining\nrod, to indicate the whereabouts of hidden wealth or water. In the\nHomeric hymn to Hermes (line 529), Apollo thus describes the\n_caduceus_, or wand of Hermes: 'Thereafter will I give thee a lovely\nwand of wealth and riches, a golden wand with three leaves, which\nshall keep thee ever unharmed.' In later art this wand, or _caduceus_,\nis usually entwined with serpents; but on one vase, at least, the wand\nof Hermes is simply the forked twig of our rustic miners and\nwater-finders. The same form is found on an engraved Etruscan\nmirror.[182]\n\nNow, was a wand of this form used in classical times to discover\nhidden objects of value? That wands were used by Scythians and Germans\nin various methods of casting lots is certain; but that is not the\nsame thing as the working of the twig. Cicero speaks of a fabled wand\nby which wealth can be procured; but he says nothing of the method of\nits use, and possibly was only thinking of the rod of Hermes, as\ndescribed in the Homeric hymn already quoted. There was a Roman\n_satura_, by Varro, called 'Virgula Divina'; fragments remain, but\nthrow no light on the subject. A passage usually quoted from Seneca\nhas no more to do with the divining rod than with the telephone. Pliny\nis a writer extremely fond of marvels; yet when he describes the\nvarious modes of finding wells of water, he says nothing about the\ndivining wand. The isolated texts from Scripture which are usually\nreferred to clearly indicate wands of a different sort, if we except\nHosea iv. 12, the passage used as motto by the author of _Lettres qui\ndecouvrent l'illusion des Philosophes sur la Baguette_ (1696). This\ntext is translated in our Bible, 'My people ask counsel at their\nstocks, _and their staff declareth unto them_.' Now, we have here no\nreference to the search for wells and minerals, but to a form of\ndivination for which the modern twig has ceased to be applied. In\nrural England people use the wand to find water, but not to give\nadvice, or to detect thieves or murderers; but, as we shall see, the\nrod has been very much used for these purposes within the last three\ncenturies.\n\nThis brings us to the moral powers of the twig; and here we find some\nassistance in our inquiry from the practices of uncivilised races. In\n1719 John Bell was travelling across Asia; he fell in with a Russian\nmerchant, who told him of a custom common among the Mongols. The\nRussian had lost certain pieces of cloth, which were stolen out of his\ntent. The Kutuchtu Lama ordered the proper steps to be taken to find\nout the thief. 'One of the Lamas took a bench with four feet, and\nafter turning it in several directions, at last it pointed directly to\nthe tent where the stolen goods were concealed. The Lama now mounted\nacross the bench, and soon carried it, or, as was commonly believed,\nit carried him, to the very tent, where he ordered the damask to be\nproduced. The demand was directly complied with; for it is vain in\nsuch cases to offer any excuse.'[183] Here we have not a wand, indeed,\nbut a wooden object which turned in the direction, not of water or\nminerals, but of human guilt. A better instance is given by the Rev.\nH. Rowley, in his account of the Mauganja.[184] A thief had stolen\nsome corn. The medicine-man, or sorcerer, produced two sticks, which\nhe gave to four young men, two holding each stick. The medicine-man\ndanced and sang a magical incantation, while a zebra-tail and a rattle\nwere shaken over the holders of the sticks. 'After a while, the men\nwith the sticks had spasmodic twitchings of the arms and legs; these\nincreased nearly to convulsions.... According to the native idea, _it\nwas the sticks which were possessed primarily_, and through them the\nmen, _who could hardly hold them_. The sticks whirled and dragged the\nmen round and round like mad, through bush and thorny shrub, and over\nevery obstacle; nothing stopped them; their bodies were torn and\nbleeding. At last they came back to the assembly, whirled round again,\nand rushed down the path to fall panting and exhausted in the hut of\none of a chief's wives. The sticks, rolling to her very feet,\ndenounced her as a thief. She denied it; but the medicine-man\nanswered, \"The spirit has declared her guilty; the spirit never\nlies.\"' The woman, however, was acquitted, after a proxy trial by\nordeal: a cock, used as her proxy, threw up the _muavi_, or\nordeal-poison.\n\nHere the points to be noted are, first, the violent movement of the\nsticks, which the men could hardly hold; next, the physical agitation\nof the men. The former point is illustrated by the confession of a\ncivil engineer writing in the _Times_. This gentleman had seen the rod\nsuccessfully used for water; he was asked to try it himself, and he\ndetermined that it should not twist in his hands 'if an ocean rolled\nunder his feet.' Twist it did, however, in spite of all his efforts to\nhold it, when he came above a concealed spring. Another example is\nquoted in the _Quarterly Review_, vol. xxii. p. 374. A narrator, in\nwhom the editor 'had implicit confidence,' mentions how, when a lady\nheld the twig just over a hidden well, 'the twig turned so quick as\nto snap, breaking near her fingers.' There seems to be no indiscretion\nin saying, as the statement has often been printed before, that the\nlady spoken of in the _Quarterly Review_ was Lady Milbanke, mother of\nthe wife of Byron. Dr. Hutton, the geologist, is quoted as a witness\nof her success in the search for water with the divining rod. He says\nthat, in an experiment at Woolwich, 'the twigs twisted themselves off\nbelow her fingers which were considerably indented by so forcibly\nholding the rods between them.'[185] Next, the violent excitement of\nthe four young men of the Mauganja is paralleled by the physical\nexperience of the lady quoted in the _Quarterly Review_. 'A degree of\nagitation was visible in her face when she first made the experiment;\nshe says this agitation was great' when she began to practise the art,\nor whatever we are to call it. Again, in _Lettres qui decouvrent\nl'illusion_ (p. 93), we read that Jacques Aymar (who discovered the\nLyons murderer in 1692) _se sent tout emu_--feels greatly\nagitated--when he comes on that of which he is in search. On page 97\nof the same volume, the body of the man who holds the divining rod is\ndescribed as 'violently agitated.' When Aymar entered the room where\nthe murder, to be described later, was committed, 'his pulse rose as\nif he were in a burning fever, and the wand turned rapidly in his\nhands' (_Lettres_, p. 107). But the most singular parallel to the\nperformance of the African wizard must be quoted from a curious\npamphlet already referred to, a translation of the old French _Verge\nde Jacob_, written, annotated, and published by a Mr. Thomas Welton.\nMr. Welton seems to have been a believer in mesmerism, animal\nmagnetism, and similar doctrines, but the coincidence of his story\nwith that of the African sorcerer is none the less remarkable. It is a\ncoincidence which must almost certainly be 'undesigned.' Mr. Welton's\nwife was what modern occult philosophers call a 'Sensitive.' In 1851,\nhe wished her to try an experiment with the rod in a garden, and sent\na maid-servant to bring 'a certain stick that stood behind the parlour\ndoor. In great terror she brought it to the garden, her hand firmly\nclutched on the stick, nor could she let it go....' The stick was\ngiven to Mrs. Welton, 'and it drew her with very considerable force to\nnearly the centre of the garden, to a bed of poppies, where she\nstopped.' Here water was found, and the gardener, who had given up his\nlease as there was no well in the garden, had the lease renewed.\n\nWe began by giving evidence to show (and much more might be adduced)\nthat the belief in the divining rod, or in analogous instruments, is\nnot confined to the European races. The superstition, or whatever we\nare to call it, produces the same effects of physical agitation, and\nthe use of the rod is accompanied with similar phenomena among\nMongols, English people, Frenchmen, and the natives of Central Africa.\nThe same coincidences are found in almost all superstitious practices,\nand in the effects of these practices on believers. The Chinese use a\nform of _planchette_, which is half a divining rod--a branch of the\npeach tree; and 'spiritualism' is more than three-quarters of the\nreligion of most savage tribes, a Maori _seance_ being more impressive\nthan anything the civilised Sludge can offer his credulous patrons.\nFrom these facts different people draw different inferences. Believers\nsay that the wide distribution of their favourite mysteries is a proof\nthat 'there is something in them.' The incredulous look on our modern\n'twigs' and turning-tables and ghost stories as mere 'survivals' from\nthe stage of savage culture, or want of culture, when the fancy of\nhalf-starved man was active and his reason uncritical.\n\nThe great authority for the modern history of the divining rod is a\nwork published by M. Chevreuil, in Paris, in 1854. M. Chevreuil,\nprobably with truth, regarded the wand as much on a par with the\nturning-tables, which, in 1854, attracted a good deal of attention. He\nstudied the topic historically, and his book, with a few accessible\nFrench tracts and letters of the seventeenth century, must here be our\nguide. A good deal of M. Chevreuil's learning, it should be said, is\nreproduced in Mr. Baring Gould's _Curious Myths of the Middle Ages_,\nbut the French author is much more exhaustive in his treatment of the\ntopic. M. Chevreuil could find no earlier book on the twig than the\n_Testament du Frere Basil Valentin_, a holy man who flourished (the\ntwig) about 1413; but whose treatise is possibly apocryphal. According\nto Basil Valentin, the twig was regarded with awe by ignorant\nlabouring men, which is still true. Paracelsus, though he has a\nreputation for magical daring, thought the use of the twig 'uncertain\nand unlawful'; and Agricola, in his _De Re Metallica_ (1546),\nexpresses a good deal of scepticism about the use of the rod in\nmining. A traveller of 1554 found that the wand was _not_ used--and\nthis seems to have surprised him--in the mines of Macedonia. Most of\nthe writers of the sixteenth century accounted for the turning of the\nrod by 'sympathy,' which was then as favourite an explanation of\neverything as evolution is to-day. In 1630 the Baron de Beau Soleil of\nBohemia (his name sounds rather Bohemian) came to France with his\nwife, and made much use of the rod in the search for water and\nminerals. The Baroness wrote a little volume on the subject,\nafterwards reprinted in a great storehouse of this lore, _La Physique\nOcculte_, of Vallemont. Kircher, a Jesuit, made experiments which came\nto nothing; but Gaspard Schott, a learned writer, cautiously declined\nto say that the Devil was always 'at the bottom of it' when the rod\nturned successfully. The problem of the rod was placed before our own\nRoyal Society by Boyle, in 1666, but the Society was not more\nsuccessful here than in dealing with the philosophical difficulty\nproposed by Charles II. In 1679 De Saint Romain, deserting the old\nhypothesis of secret 'sympathies,' explained the motion of the rod\n(supposing it to move) by the action of _corpuscules_. From this time\nthe question became the playing ground of the Cartesian and other\nphilosophers. The struggle was between theories of 'atoms,' magnetism,\n'corpuscules,' electric effluvia, and so forth, on one side, and the\nimmediate action of devils or of conscious imposture, on the other.\nThe controversy, comparatively simple as long as the rod only\nindicated hidden water or minerals, was complicated by the revival of\nthe savage belief that the wand could 'smell out' moral offences. As\nlong as the twig turned over material objects, you could imagine\nsympathies and 'effluvia' at pleasure. But when the wand twirled over\nthe scene of a murder, or dragged the expert after the traces of the\nculprit, fresh explanations were wanted. Le Brun wrote to Malebranche\non July 8, 1689, to tell him that the wand only turned over what the\nholder had the _intention_ of discovering.[186] If he were following a\nmurderer, the wand good-naturedly refused to distract him by turning\nover hidden water. On the other hand, Vallemont says that when a\npeasant was using the wand to find water, it turned over a spot in a\nwood where a murdered woman was buried, and it conducted the peasant\nto the murderer's house. These events seem inconsistent with Le Brun's\ntheory of _intention_. Malebranche replied, in effect, that he had\nonly heard of the turning of the wand over water and minerals; that it\nthen turned (if turn it did) by virtue of some such force as\nelectricity; that, if such force existed, the wand would turn over\nopen water. But it does not so turn; and, as physical causes are\nconstant, it follows that the turning of the rod cannot be the result\nof a physical cause. The only other explanation is an intelligent\ncause--either the will of an impostor, or the action of a spirit. Good\nspirits would not meddle with such matters; therefore either the Devil\nor an impostor causes the motion of the rod, if it _does_ move at\nall. This logic of Malebranche's is not agreeable to believers in the\ntwig; but there the controversy stood, till, in 1692, Jacques Aymar, a\npeasant of Dauphine, by the use of the twig discovered one of the\nLyons murderers.\n\nThough the story of this singular event is pretty well known, it must\nhere be briefly repeated. No affair can be better authenticated, and\nour version is abridged from the 'Relations' of 'Monsieur le Procureur\ndu Roi, Monsieur l'Abbe de la Garde, Monsieur Panthot, Doyen des\nMedecins de Lyon, et Monsieur Aubert, Avocat celebre.'\n\nOn July 5, 1692, a vintner and his wife were found dead in the cellar\nof their shop at Lyons. They had been killed by blows from a\nhedging-knife, and their money had been stolen. The culprits could not\nbe discovered, and a neighbour took upon him to bring to Lyons a\npeasant out of Dauphine, named Jacques Aymar, a man noted for his\nskill with the divining rod. The Lieutenant-Criminel and the Procureur\ndu Roi took Aymar into the cellar, furnishing him with a rod of the\nfirst wood that came to hand. According to the Procureur du Roi, the\nrod did not move till Aymar reached the very spot where the crime had\nbeen committed. His pulse then rose, and the wand twisted rapidly.\n'Guided by the wand or by some internal sensation,' Aymar now pursued\nthe track of the assassins, entered the court of the Archbishop's\npalace, left the town by the bridge over the Rhone, and followed the\nright bank of the river. He reached a gardener's house, which he\ndeclared the men had entered, and some children confessed that three\nmen (_whom they described_) had come into the house one Sunday\nmorning. Aymar followed the track up the river, pointed out all the\nplaces where the men had landed, and, to make a long story short,\nstopped at last at the door of the prison of Beaucaire. He was\nadmitted, looked at the prisoners, and picked out as the murderer a\nlittle hunchback (had the children described a hunchback?) who had\njust been brought in for a small theft. The hunchback was taken to\nLyons, and he was recognised, on the way, by the people at all the\nstages where he had stopped. At Lyons he was examined in the usual\nmanner, and confessed that he had been an accomplice in the crime, and\nhad guarded the door. Aymar pursued the other culprits to the coast,\nfollowed them by sea, landed where they had landed, and only desisted\nfrom his search when they crossed the frontier. As for the hunchback,\nhe was broken on the wheel, being condemned on his own confession. It\ndoes not appear that he was put to the torture to make him confess. If\nthis had been done his admissions would, of course, have been as\nvalueless as those of the victims in trials for witchcraft.\n\nThis is, in brief, the history of the famous Lyons murders. It must be\nadded that many experiments were made with Aymar in Paris, and that\nthey were all failures. He fell into every trap that was set for him;\ndetected thieves who were innocent, failed to detect the guilty, and\ninvented absurd excuses; alleging, for example, that the rod would not\nindicate a murderer who had confessed, or who was drunk when he\ncommitted his crime. These excuses seem to annihilate the wild\ncontemporary theory of Chauvin and others, that the body of a murderer\nnaturally exhales an invisible _matiere meurtriere_--peculiar\nindestructible atoms, which may be detected by the expert with the\nrod. Something like the same theory, we believe, has been used to\nexplain the pretended phenomena of haunted houses. But the wildest\nphilosophical credulity is staggered by a _matiere meurtriere_ which\nis disengaged by the body of a sober, but not by that of an\nintoxicated, murderer, which survives tempests in the air, and endures\nfor many years, but is dissipated the moment the murderer confesses.\nBelievers in Aymar have conjectured that his real powers were\ndestroyed by the excitements of Paris, and that he took to imposture;\nbut this is an effort of too easy good-nature. When Vallemont defended\nAymar (1693) in the book called _La Physique Occulte_, he declared\nthat Aymar was physically affected to an unpleasant extent by _matiere\nmeurtriere_, but was not thus agitated when he used the rod to\ndiscover minerals. We have seen that, if modern evidence can be\ntrusted, holders of the rod are occasionally much agitated even when\nthey are only in search of wells. The story gave rise to a prolonged\ncontroversy, and the case remains a judicial puzzle, but little\nelucidated by the confession of the hunchback, who may have been\ninsane, or morbid, or vexed by constant questioning till he was weary\nof his life. He was only nineteen years of age.\n\nThe next use of the rod was very much like that of 'tipping' and\nturning tables. Experts held it (as did Le Pere Menestrier, 1694),\nquestions were asked, and the wand answered by turning in various\ndirections. By way of showing the inconsistency of all philosophies of\nthe wand, it may be said that one girl found that it turned over\nconcealed gold if she held gold in her hand, while another found that\nit indicated the metal so long as she did _not_ carry gold with her in\nthe quest. In the search for water, ecclesiastics were particularly\nfond of using the rod. The Marechal de Boufflers dug many wells, and\nfound no water, on the indications of a rod in the hands of the Prieur\nde Dorenic, near Guise. In 1700 a cure, near Toulouse, used the wand\nto answer questions, which, like _planchette_, it often answered\nwrong. The great _sourcier_, or water-finder, of the eighteenth\ncentury was one Bleton. He declared that the rod was a mere index, and\nthat physical sensations of the searcher communicated themselves to\nthe wand. This is the reverse of the African theory, that the stick is\ninspired, while the men who hold it are only influenced by the stick.\nOn the whole, Bleton's idea seems the less absurd, but Bleton himself\noften failed when watched with scientific care by the incredulous.\nParamelle, who wrote on methods of discovering wells, in 1856, came to\nthe conclusion that the wand turns in the hands of certain individuals\nof peculiar temperament, and that it is very much a matter of chance\nwhether there are, or are not, wells in the places where it turns.\n\nOn the whole, the evidence for the turning of the wand is a shade\nbetter than that for the magical turning of tables. If there are no\nphenomena of this sort at all, it is remarkable that the belief in\nthem is so widely diffused. But if the phenomena are purely\nsubjective, owing to the conscious or unconscious action of nervous\npatients, then they are precisely of the sort which the cunning\nmedicine-man observes, and makes his profit out of, even in the\nearliest stages of society. Once introduced, these practices never die\nout among the conservative and unprogressive class of peasants; and,\nevery now and then, they attract the curiosity of philosophers, or win\nthe belief of the credulous among the educated classes. Then comes, as\nwe have lately seen, a revival of ancient superstition. For it were as\neasy to pluck the comet out of the sky by the tail, as to eradicate\nsuperstition from the mind of man.\n\nPerhaps one good word may be said for the divining rod. Considering\nthe chances it has enjoyed, the rod has done less mischief than might\nhave been expected. It might very well have become, in Europe, as in\nAsia and Africa, a kind of ordeal, or method of searching for and\ntrying malefactors. Men like Jacques Aymar might have played, on a\nlarger scale, the part of Hopkins, the witch-finder. Aymar was,\nindeed, employed by some young men to point out, by help of the wand,\nthe houses of ladies who had been more frail than faithful. But at the\nend of the seventeenth century in France, this research was not\nregarded with favour, and put the final touch on the discomfiture of\nAymar. So far as we know, the hunchback of Lyons was the only victim\nof the 'twig' who ever suffered in civilised society. It is true that,\nin rural England, the movements of a Bible, suspended like a pendulum,\nhave been thought to point out the guilty. But even that evidence is\nnot held good enough to go to a jury.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[182] Preller, _Ausgewaehlte Aufsaetze_, p. 154.\n\n[183] Tylor, _Prim. Cult._, ii. 156. Pinkerton, vii. 357.\n\n[184] _Universities Mission to Central Africa_, p. 217. _Prim. Cult._,\nii. 156, 157.\n\n[185] Quoted in _Jacob's Rod_: London, n.d., a translation of _La\nVerge de Jacob_, Lyon, 1693.\n\n[186] _Lettres sur la Baguette_, pp. 106-112.\n\n\n\n\n_HOTTENTOT MYTHOLOGY._\n\n\n'What makes mythology mythological, in the true sense of the word, is\nwhat is utterly unintelligible, absurd, strange, or miraculous.' So\nsays Mr. Max Mueller in the January number of the _Nineteenth Century_\nfor 1882. Men's attention would never have been surprised into the\nperpetual study and questioning of mythology if it had been\nintelligible and dignified, and if its report had been in accordance\nwith the reason of civilised and cultivated races. What mythologists\nwish to discover is the origin of the countless disgusting, amazing,\nand incongruous legends which occur in the myths of all known peoples.\nAccording to Mr. Mueller--\n\n    There are only two systems possible in which the irrational\n    element in mythology can be accounted for. One school takes\n    the irrational as a matter of fact; and if we read that\n    Daphne fled from Phoebus, and was changed into a laurel tree,\n    that school would say that there probably was a young lady\n    called Aurora, like, for instance, Aurora Koenigsmark; that a\n    young man called Robin, or possibly a man with red hair,\n    pursued her, and that she hid behind a laurel tree that\n    happened to be there. This was the theory of Euhemeros,\n    re-established by the famous Abbe Bernier [Mr. Mueller\n    doubtless means Banier], and not quite extinct even now.\n    According to another school, the irrational element in\n    mythology is inevitable, and due to the influence of language\n    on thought, so that many of the legends of gods and heroes\n    may be rendered intelligible if only we can discover the\n    original meaning of their proper names. The followers of this\n    school try to show that Daphne, the laurel tree, was an old\n    name for the dawn, and that Phoibos was one of the many names\n    of the sun, who pursued the dawn till she vanished before his\n    rays. Of these two schools, the former has always appealed to\n    the mythologies of savage nations, as showing that gods and\n    heroes were originally human beings, worshipped after their\n    death as ancestors and as gods, while the latter has confined\n    itself chiefly to an etymological analysis of mythological\n    names in Greek, Latin, and Sanskrit, and other languages,\n    such as had been sufficiently studied to admit of a\n    scientific, grammatical, and etymological treatment.\n\nThis is a long text for our remarks on Hottentot mythology; but it is\nnecessary to prove that there are not two schools only of\nmythologists: that there are inquirers who neither follow the path of\nAbbe Banier, nor of the philologists, but a third way, unknown to, or\nignored by Mr. Mueller. We certainly were quite unaware that Banier and\nEuhemeros were very specially concerned, as Mr. Mueller thinks, with\nsavage mythology; but it is by aid of savage myths that the school\nunknown to Mr. Mueller examines the myths of civilised people like the\nGreeks. The disciples of Mr. Mueller interpret all the absurdities of\nGreek myth, the gods who are beasts on occasion, the stars who were\nmen, the men who become serpents or deer, the deities who are\ncannibals and parricides and adulterers, as the result of the\ninfluence of Aryan speech upon Aryan thought. Men, in Mr. Mueller's\nopinion, had originally pure ideas about the gods, and expressed them\nin language which we should call figurative. The figures remained,\nwhen their meaning was lost; the names were then supposed to be gods,\nthe _nomina_ became _numina_, and out of the inextricable confusion of\nthought which followed, the belief in cannibal, bestial, adulterous,\nand incestuous gods was evolved. That is Mr. Mueller's hypothesis; with\nhim the evolution, a result of a disease of language, has been from\nearly comparative purity to later religious abominations. Opposed to\nhim is what may be called the school of Mr. Herbert Spencer: the\nmodern Euhemerism, which recognises an element of historical truth in\nmyths, as if the characters had been real characters, and which, in\nmost gods, beholds ancestral ghosts raised to a higher power.\n\nThere remains a third system of mythical interpretation, though Mr.\nMueller says only two methods are possible. The method, in this third\ncase, is to see whether the irrational features and elements of\ncivilised Greek myth occur also in the myths of savages who speak\nlanguages quite unlike those from whose diseases Mr. Mueller derives\nthe corruption of religion. If the same features recur, are they as\nmuch in harmony with the mental habits of savages, such as Bushmen and\nHottentots, as they are out of accord with the mental habits of\ncivilised Greeks? If this question can be answered in the affirmative,\nthen it may be provisionally assumed that the irrational elements of\nsavage myth are the legacy of savage modes of thought, and have\nsurvived in the religion of Greece from a time when the ancestors of\nthe Greeks were savages. But inquirers who use this method do not in\nthe least believe that either Greek or savage gods were, for the more\npart, originally real men. Both Greeks and savages have worshipped the\nghosts of the dead. Both Greeks and savages assign to their gods the\nmiraculous power of transformation and magic, which savages also\nattribute to their conjurers or shamans. The mantle (if he had a\nmantle) of the medicine-man has fallen on the god; but Zeus, or Indra,\nwas not once a real medicine-man. A number of factors combine in the\nconception of Indra, or Zeus, as either god appears in Sanskrit or\nGreek literature, of earlier or later date. Our school does not hold\nanything so absurd as that Daphne was a real girl pursued by a young\nman. But it has been observed that, among most savage races,\nmetamorphoses like that of Daphne not only exist in mythology, but are\nbelieved to occur very frequently in actual life. Men and women are\nsupposed to be capable of turning into plants (as the bamboo in\nSarawak), into animals, and stones, and stars, and those metamorphoses\nhappen as contemporary events--for example, in Samoa.[187]\n\nWhen Mr. Lane was living at Cairo, and translating the _Arabian\nNights_, he found that the people still believed in metamorphosis. Any\nday, just as in the _Arabian Nights_, a man might find himself turned\nby an enchanter into a pig or a horse. Similar beliefs, not derived\nfrom language, supply the matter of the senseless incidents in Greek\nmyths.\n\nSavage mythology is also full of metamorphoses. Therefore the\nmythologists whose case we are stating, when they find identical\nmetamorphoses in the classical mythologies, conjecture that these were\nfirst invented when the ancestors of the Aryans were in the\nimaginative condition in which a score of rude races are to-day. This\nexplanation they apply to many other irrational elements in mythology.\nThey do not say 'Something like the events narrated in these stories\nonce occurred,' nor 'A disease of language caused the belief in such\nevents,' but 'These stories were invented when men were capable of\nbelieving in their occurrence as a not unusual sort of incident.'\n\nPhilologists attempt to explain the metamorphoses as the result of\nsome oblivion and confusion of language. Apollo, they say, was called\nthe 'wolf-god' (Lukeios) by accident: his name really meant the 'god\nof light.' A similar confusion made the 'seven shiners' into the\n'seven bears.' These explanations are distrusted, partly because the\narea to be covered by them is so vast. There is scarcely a star, tree,\nor beast, but it has been a man or woman once, if we believe civilised\nand savage myth. Two or three possible examples of myths originating\nin forgetfulness of the meaning of words, even if admitted, do not\nexplain the incalculable crowd of metamorphoses. We account for these\nby saying that, to the savage mind, which draws no hard and fast line\nbetween man and nature, all such things are possible; possible enough,\nat least, to be used as incidents in story. Again, as has elsewhere\nbeen shown, the laxity of philological reasoning is often quite\nextraordinary; while, lastly, philologists of the highest repute\nflatly contradict each other about the meaning of the names and roots\non which they agree in founding their theory.[188]\n\nBy way of an example of the philological method as applied to savage\nmythology, we choose a book in many ways admirable, Dr. Hahn's _Tsuni\nGoam, the Supreme Being of the Khoi Khoi_.[189] This book is sometimes\nappealed to as a crushing argument against the mythologists who adopt\nthe method we have just explained. Let us see if the blow be so very\ncrushing. To put the case in a nutshell, the Hottentots have commonly\nbeen described as a race which worshipped a dead chief, or\nconjurer--Tsui Goab his name is, meaning Wounded Knee, a not unlikely\nname for a savage. Dr. Hahn, on the other hand, labours to show that\nthe Hottentots originally worshipped no dead chief, but (as a symbol\nof the Infinite) the Red Dawn. The meaning of the name Red Dawn, he\nsays, was lost; the words which meant Red Dawn were erroneously\nsupposed to mean Wounded Knee, and thus arose the adoration and the\nmyths of a dead chief, or wizard, Tsui Goab, Wounded Knee. Clearly, if\nthis can be proved, it is an excellent case for the philological\nschool, an admirable example of a myth produced by forgetfulness of\nthe meaning of words. Our own opinion is that, even if Tsui Goab\noriginally meant Red Dawn, the being, as now conceived of by his\nadorers, is bedizened in the trappings of the dead medicine-man, and\nis worshipped just as ghosts of the dead are worshipped. Thus,\nwhatever his origin, his myth is freely coloured by the savage fancy\nand by savage ideas, and we ask no more than this colouring to explain\nthe wildest Greek myths. What truly 'primitive' religion was, we make\nno pretence to know. We only say that, whether Greek religion arose\nfrom a pure fountain or not, its stream had flowed through and been\ntinged by the soil of savage thought, before it widens into our view\nin historical times. But it will be shown that the logic which\nconnects Tsui Goab with the Red Dawn is far indeed from being cogent.\n\nTsui Goab is thought by the Hottentots themselves to be a dead man,\nand it is admitted that among the Hottentots dead men are adored.\n'Cairns are still objects of worship,'[190] and Tsui Goab lies beneath\nseveral cairns. Again, soothsayers are believed in (p. 24), and Tsui\nGoab is regarded as a deceased soothsayer. As early as 1655, a witness\nquoted by Hahn saw women worshipping at one of the cairns of Heitsi\nEibib, another supposed ancestral being. Kolb, the old Dutch\ntraveller, found that the Hottentots, like the Bushmen, revered the\nmantis insect. This creature they called Gaunab. They also had some\nmoon myths, practised adoration of the moon, and danced at dawn.\nThunberg (1792) saw the cairn-worship, and, on asking its meaning, was\ntold that a Hottentot lay buried there.[191] Thunberg also heard of\nthe worship of the mantis, or grey grasshopper. In 1803 Liechtenstein\nnoted the cairn-worship, and was told that a renowned Hottentot\ndoctor of old times rested under the cairn. Appleyard's account of\n'the name God in Khoi Khoi, or Hottentot,' deserves quoting in full:--\n\n    Hottentot: Tsoei'koap.\n\n    Namaqua: Tsoei'koap.\n\n    Koranna: Tshu'koab, and the author adds: 'This is the word\n    from which the Kafirs have probably derived their u-Tixo, a\n    term which they have universally applied, like the\n    Hottentots, to designate the Divine Being, since the\n    introduction of Christianity. Its derivation is curious. It\n    consists of two words, which together mean the \"wounded\n    knee.\" It is said to have been originally applied to a doctor\n    or sorcerer of considerable notoriety and skill amongst the\n    Hottentots or Namaquas some generations back, in consequence\n    of his having received some injury in his knee. Having been\n    held in high repute for extraordinary powers during life, he\n    appeared to be invoked even after death, as one who could\n    still relieve and protect; and hence, in process of time, he\n    became nearest in idea to their first conceptions of God.'\n\nOther missionaries make old Wounded Knee a good sort of being on the\nwhole, who fights Gaunab, a bad being. Dr. Moffat heard that 'Tsui\nKuap' was 'a notable warrior,' who once received a wound in the knee.\nSir James Alexander[192] found that the Namaquas believed their 'great\nfather' lay below the cairns on which they flung boughs. This great\nfather was Heitsi Eibib, and, like other medicine-men, 'he could take\nmany forms.' Like Tsui Goab, he died several times and rose again.\nHahn gives (p. 61) a long account of the Wounded Knee from an old\nchief, and a story of the battle between Tsui Goab, who 'lives in a\nbeautiful heaven,' and Gaunab, who 'lives in a dark heaven.' As this\nchief had dwelt among missionaries very long, we may perhaps discount\nhis remarks on 'heaven' as borrowed. Hahn thinks they refer to the red\nsky in which Tsui Goab lived, and to the black sky which was the home\nof Gaunab. The two characters in this crude religious dualism thus\ninhabit light and darkness respectively.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAs far as we have gone, Tsui Goab, like Heitsi Eibib among the Namas,\nis a dead sorcerer, whose graves are worshipped, while, with a common\ninconsistency, he is also thought of as dwelling in the sky. Even\nChristians often speak of the dead with similar inconsistency. Tsui\nGoab's worship is intelligible enough among a people so credulous that\nthey took Hahn himself for a conjurer (p. 81), and so given to\nancestor-worship that Hahn has seen them worship their own fathers'\ngraves, and expect help from men recently dead (pp. 112, 113). But,\nwhile the Khoi Khoi think that Tsui Goab was once a real man, we need\nnot share their Euhemerism. More probably, like Unkulunkulu among the\nZulus, Tsui Goab is an ideal, imaginary ancestral sorcerer and god. No\none man requires many graves, and Tsui Goab has more than Osiris\npossessed in Egypt.\n\nIf the Egyptians in some immeasurably distant past were once on the\nlevel of Namas and Hottentots, they would worship Osiris at as many\nbarrows as Heitsi Eibib and Tsui Goab are adored. In later times the\nnumerous graves of one being would require explanation, and\nexplanations would be furnished by the myth that the body of Osiris\nwas torn to pieces and each fragment buried in a separate tomb.\n\nAgain, lame gods occur in Greek, Australian, and Brazilian creeds, and\nthe very coincidence of Tsui Goab's lameness makes us sceptical about\nhis claims to be a real dead man. On the other hand, when Hahn tells\nus that epical myths are now sung in the dances in honour of warriors\nlately slain (p. 103), and that similar dances and songs were\nperformed in the past to honour Tsui Goab, this looks more as if Tsui\nGoab had been an actual person. Against this we must set (p. 105) the\nbelief that Tsui Goab made the first man and woman, and was the\nPrometheus of the Hottentots.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo far Dr. Hahn has given us facts which entirely fit in with our\ntheory that an ancestor-worshipping people, believing in metamorphosis\nand sorcery, adores a god who is supposed to be a deceased ancestral\nsorcerer with the power of magic and metamorphosis. But now Dr. Hahn\noffers his own explanation. According to the philological method, he\nwill 'study the names of the persons, until we arrive at the naked\nroot and original meanings of the words.' Starting then with Tsui\nGoab, whom all evidence declares to be a dead lame conjurer and\nwarrior, Dr. Hahn avers that 'Tsui Goab, originally Tsuni Goam, was\nthe name by which the Red Men called the Infinite.' As the Frenchman\nsaid of the derivation of _jour_ from _dies_, we may hint that the\nInfinite thus transformed into a lame Hottentot 'bush-doctor' is\n_diablement change en route_. To a dead lame sorcerer from the\nInfinite is a fall indeed. The process of the decline is thus\ndescribed. _Tsui Goab_ is composed of two roots, _tsu_ and _goa_.\n_Goa_ means 'to go on,' 'to come on.' In Khoi Khoi _goa-b_ means 'the\ncoming on one,' the dawn, and _goa-b_ also means 'the knee.' Dr. Hahn\nnext writes (making a logical leap of extraordinary width), 'It is now\nobvious that _//goab_ in Tsui Goab cannot be translated with\nknee,'--why not?--'but we have to adopt the other metaphorical\nmeaning, the _approaching_ day, _i.e._, the dawn.' Where is the\nnecessity? In ordinary philology, we should here demand a number of\nattested examples of _goab_, in the sense of dawn, but in Khoi Khoi we\ncannot expect such evidence, as there are probably no texts. Next,\nafter arbitrarily deciding that all Khoi Khois misunderstand their own\ntongue (for that is what the rendering here of _goab_ by 'dawn' comes\nto), Dr. Hahn examines _tsu_, in _Tsui_. _Tsu_ means 'sore,'\n'wounded,' 'painful,' as in 'wounded knee'--Tsui Goab. This does not\nhelp Dr. Hahn, for 'wounded dawn' means nothing. But he reflects that\na wound is red, _tsu_ means wounded: therefore _tsu_ means red,\ntherefore Tsui Goab is the Red Dawn. Q.E.D.[193]\n\nThis kind of reasoning is obviously fallacious. Dr. Hahn's point could\nonly be made by bringing forward examples in which _tsu_ is employed\nto mean red in Khoi Khoi. Of this use of the word _tsu_ he does not\ngive one single instance, and, in fact, does give another word for\n'red,' or 'bloody.' His etymology is not strengthened by the fact that\nTsui Goab has once been said to live in the red sky. A red house is\nnot necessarily tenanted by a red man. Still less is the theory\nsupported by the hymn which says Tsui Goab paints himself with red\nochre. Most idols, from those of the Samoyeds to the Greek images of\nDionysus, are and have been daubed with red.[194] By such reasoning is\nTsui Goab proved to be the Red Dawn, while his gifts of prophecy\n(which he shares with all soothsayers) are accounted for as attributes\nof dawn, of the Vedic _Saranyu_.\n\nTurning from Tsui Goab to his old enemy Gaunab, we learn that his name\nis derived from _//gau_, 'to destroy,' and, according to old Hottentot\nideas, 'no one was the destroyer but the night' (p. 126). There is no\napparent reason why the destroyer should be the night, and the night\nalone, any more than why 'a lame broken knee' should be 'red' (p.\n126). Besides (p. 85), Gaunab is elsewhere explained, not as the\nnight, but as the malevolent ghost which is thought to kill people who\ndie what we call a 'natural' death. Unburied men change into this sort\nof vampire, just as Elpenor, in the _Odyssey_, threatens, if unburied,\nto become mischievous. There is another Gaunab, the mantis insect,\nwhich is worshipped by Hottentots and Bushmen (p. 92). It appears that\nthe two Gaunabs are differently pronounced. However that may be, a\nrace which worships an insect might well worship a dead medicine-man.\n\nThe conclusion, then, to be drawn from an examination of Hottentot\nmythology is merely this, that the ideas of a people will be reflected\nin their myths. A people which worships the dead, believes in\nsorcerers and in prophets, and in metamorphosis, will have for its god\n(if he can be called a god) a being who is looked on as a dead prophet\nand sorcerer. He will be worshipped with such rites as dead men\nreceive; he will be mixed up in such battles as living men wage, and\nwill be credited with the skill which living sorcerers claim. All\nthese things meet in the legend of Tsui Goab, the 'so-called supreme\nbeing' of the Hottentots. His connection with the dawn is not\nsupported by convincing argument or evidence. The relation of the dawn\nto the Infinite again rests on nothing but a theory of Mr. Max\nMueller's.[195] His adversary, though recognised as the night, is\nelsewhere admitted to have been, originally, a common vampire.\nFinally, the Hottentots, a people not much removed from savagery, have\na mythology full of savage and even disgusting elements. And this is\njust what we expect from Hottentots. The puzzle is when we find myths\nas low as the story of the incest of Heitsi Eibib among the Greeks.\nThe reason for this coincidence is that, in Dr. Hahn's words, 'the\nsame objects and the same phenomena in nature will give rise to the\nsame ideas, whether social or mythical, among different races of\nmankind,' especially when these races are in the same well-defined\nstate of savage fancy and savage credulity.\n\nDr. Hahn's book has been regarded as a kind of triumph over inquirers\nwho believe that ancestor-worship enters into myth, and that the purer\nelement in myth is the later. But where is the triumph? Even on Dr.\nHahn's own showing, ancestor-worship among the Hottentots has swamped\nthe adoration of the Infinite. It may be said that Dr. Hahn has at\nleast proved the adoration of the Infinite to be earlier than\nancestor-worship. But it has been shown that his attempt to establish\na middle stage, to demonstrate that the worshipped ancestor was really\nthe Red Dawn, is not logical nor convincing. Even if that middle stage\nwere established, it is a far cry from the worship of Dawn (supposed\nby the Australians to be a woman of bad character in a cloak of red\n'possum skin) to the adoration of the Infinite. Our own argument has\nbeen successful if we have shown that there are not only two possible\nschools of mythological interpretation--the Euhemeristic, led by Mr.\nSpencer, and the Philological, led by Mr. Max Mueller. We have seen\nthat it is possible to explain the legend of Tsui Goab without either\nbelieving him to have been a real historical person (as Mr. Spencer\nmay perhaps believe), or his myth to have been the result of a\n'disease of language,' as Mr. Mueller supposes. We have explained the\nlegend and worship of a supposed dead conjurer as natural to a race\nwhich believes in conjurers and worships dead men. Whether he was\nmerely an ideal ancestor and warrior, or whether an actual man has\nbeen invested with what divine qualities Tsui Goab enjoys, it is\nimpossible to say; but, if he ever lived, he has long been adorned\nwith ideal qualities and virtues which he never possessed. The\nconception of the powerful ancestral ghost has been heightened and\nadorned with some novel attributes of power: the conception of the\nInfinite has not been degraded, by forgetfulness of language, to the\nestate of an ancestral ghost with a game leg.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIf this view be correct, myth is a disease of thought, far more than a\ndisease of language. The comparative importance of language and\nthought was settled long ago, in our sense, by no less a person than\nPragapati, the Sanskrit Master of Life.\n\n'Now a dispute once took place between Mind and Speech, as to which\nwas the better of the two. Both Mind and Speech said: \"I am\nexcellent!\" Mind said: \"Surely I am better than thou, for thou dost\nnot speak anything that is not understood by me; and since thou art\nonly an imitator of what is done by me and a follower in my wake, I am\nsurely better than thou!\" Speech said: \"Surely I am better than thou,\nfor what thou knowest I make known, I communicate.\" They went to\nappeal to Pragapati for his decision. He (Pragapati) decided in favour\nof Mind, saying (to Speech): \"Mind is indeed better than thou, for\nthou art an imitator of its deeds, and a follower in its wake; and\ninferior, surely, is he who imitates his better's deeds, and follows\nin his wake.\"'\n\nSo saith the 'Satapatha Brahmana.'[196]\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[187] Turner's _Samoa_, pp. 77, 119.\n\n[188] See examples in 'A Far-travelled Tale,' 'Cupid and Psyche,' and\n'The Myth of Cronus.'\n\n[189] Truebner, 1881.\n\n[190] Hahn, p. 23.\n\n[191] _Ibid._, p. 45.\n\n[192] _Expedition_, i. 166.\n\n[193] Dr. Hahn (p. 27) gives _/ava_, or _/ana_, as Hottentot for\n'red,' derived from _/au_, 'to bleed.'\n\n[194] Hahn himself (p. 91) mentions a Hottentot god daubed with red\nearth, and noticed as long ago as 1691.\n\n[195] See 'Fetichism and the Infinite'.\n\n[196] _Sacred Books of the East_, xii. 130, 131.\n\n\n\n\n_FETICHISM AND THE INFINITE._\n\n\nWhat is the true place of Fetichism, to use a common but unscientific\nterm, in the history of religious evolution? Some theorists have made\nfetichism, that is to say, the adoration of odds and ends (with which\nthey have confused the worship of animals, of mountains, and even of\nthe earth), the first moment in the development of worship. Others,\nagain, think that fetichism is 'a corruption of religion, in Africa,\nas elsewhere.' The latter is the opinion of Mr. Max Mueller, who has\nstated it in his _Hibbert Lectures_, on 'The Origin and Growth of\nReligion, especially as illustrated by the Religions of India.' It\nseems probable that there is a middle position between these two\nextremes. Students may hold that we hardly know enough to justify us\nin talking about the _origin_ of religion, while at the same time they\nmay believe that Fetichism is one of the earliest traceable steps by\nwhich men climbed to higher conceptions of the supernatural. Meanwhile\nMr. Max Mueller supports his own theory, that fetichism is a\n'parasitical growth,' a 'corruption' of religion, by arguments mainly\ndrawn from historical study of savage creeds, and from the ancient\nreligious documents of India.\n\nThese documents are to English investigators ignorant of Sanskrit 'a\nbook sealed with seven seals.' The Vedas are interpreted in very\ndifferent ways by different Oriental scholars. It does not yet appear\nto be known whether a certain word in the Vedic funeral service means\n'goat' or 'soul'! Mr. Max Mueller's rendering is certain to have the\nfirst claim on English readers, and therefore it is desirable to\ninvestigate the conclusions which he draws from his Vedic studies. The\nordinary anthropologist must first, however, lodge a protest against\nthe tendency to look for _primitive_ matter in the Vedas. They are the\nelaborate hymns of a specially trained set of poets and philosophers,\nliving in an age almost of civilisation. They can therefore contain\nlittle testimony as to what man, while still 'primitive,' thought\nabout God, the world, and the soul. One might as well look for the\nfirst germs of religion, for _primitive_ religion strictly so called,\nin _Hymns Ancient and Modern_ as in the Vedas. It is chiefly, however,\nby way of deductions from the Vedas, that Mr. Max Mueller arrives at\nideas which may be briefly and broadly stated thus: he inclines to\nderive religion from man's sense of the Infinite, as awakened by\nnatural objects calculated to stir that sense. Our position is, on the\nother hand, that the germs of the religious sense in early man are\ndeveloped, not so much by the vision of the Infinite, as by the idea\nof Power. Early religions, in short, are selfish, not disinterested.\nThe worshipper is not contemplative, so much as eager to gain\nsomething to his advantage. In fetiches, he ignorantly recognises\nsomething that possesses power of an abnormal sort, and the train of\nideas which leads him to believe in and to treasure fetiches is one\namong the earliest springs of religious belief.\n\nMr. Mueller's opinion is the very reverse: he believes that a\ncontemplative and disinterested emotion in the presence of the\nInfinite, or of anything that suggests infinitude or is mistaken for\nthe Infinite, begets human religion, while of this religion fetichism\nis a later corruption.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn treating of fetichism Mr. Mueller is obliged to criticise the system\nof De Brosses, who introduced this rather unfortunate term to science,\nin an admirable work, _Le Culte des Dieux Fetiches_ (1760). We call\nthe work 'admirable,' because, considering the contemporary state of\nknowledge and speculation, De Brosses' book is brilliant, original,\nand only now and then rash or confused. Mr. Mueller says that De\nBrosses 'holds that all nations had to begin with fetichism, to be\nfollowed afterwards by polytheism and monotheism.' This sentence would\nlead some readers to suppose that De Brosses, in his speculations, was\nlooking for the origin of religion; but, in reality, his work is a\nmere attempt to explain a certain element in ancient religion and\nmythology. De Brosses was well aware that heathen religions were a\ncomplex mass, a concretion of many materials. He admits the existence\nof regard for the spirits of the dead as one factor, he gives Sabaeism\na place as another. But what chiefly puzzles him, and what he chiefly\ntries to explain, is the worship of odds and ends of rubbish, and the\nadoration of animals, mountains, trees, the sun, and so forth. When he\nmasses all these worships together, and proposes to call them all\nFetichism (a term derived from the Portuguese word for a talisman), De\nBrosses is distinctly unscientific. But De Brosses is distinctly\nscientific when he attempts to explain the animal-worship of Egypt,\nand the respect paid by Greeks and Romans to shapeless stones, as\nsurvivals of older savage practices.\n\nThe position of De Brosses is this: Old mythology and religion are a\ntissue of many threads. Sabaeism, adoration of the dead, mythopoeic\nfancy, have their part in the fabric. Among many African tribes, a\nform of theism, Islamite, or Christian, or self-developed, is\nsuperimposed on a mass of earlier superstitions. Among these\nsuperstitions, is the worship of animals and plants, and the cult of\nrough stones and of odds and ends of matter. What is the origin of\nthis element, so prominent in the religion of Egypt, and present, if\nless conspicuous, in the most ancient temples of Greece? It is the\nsurvival, answers De Brosses, of ancient practices like those of\nuntutored peoples, as Brazilians, Samoyeds, Negroes, whom the\nEgyptians and Pelasgians once resembled in lack of culture.\n\nThis, briefly stated, is the hypothesis of De Brosses. If he had\npossessed our wider information, he would have known that, among\nsavage races, the worships of the stars, of the dead, and of plants\nand animals, are interlaced by the strange metaphysical processes of\nwild men. He would, perhaps, have kept the supernatural element in\nmagical stones, feathers, shells, and so on, apart from the triple\nthread of Sabaeism, ghost-worship, and totemism, with its later\ndevelopment into the regular worship of plants and animals. It must be\nrecognised, however, that De Brosses was perfectly well aware of the\nconfused and manifold character of early religion. He had a clear view\nof the truth that what the religious instinct has once grasped, it\ndoes not, as a rule, abandon, but subordinates or disguises, when it\nreaches higher ideas. And he avers, again and again, that men laid\nhold of the coarser and more material objects of worship, while they\nthemselves were coarse and dull, and that, as civilisation advanced,\nthey, as a rule, subordinated and disguised the ruder factors in their\nsystem. Here it is that Mr. Max Mueller differs from De Brosses. He\nholds that the adoration of stones, feathers, shells, and (as I\nunderstand him) the worship of animals are, even among the races of\nAfrica, a corruption of an earlier and purer religion, a 'parasitical\ndevelopment' of religion.\n\nHowever, Mr. Max Mueller himself held 'for a long time' what he calls\n'De Brosses' theory of fetichism.' What made him throw the theory\noverboard? It was 'the fact that, while in the earliest accessible\ndocuments of religious thought we look in vain for any very clear\ntraces of fetichism, they become more and more frequent everywhere in\nthe later stages of religious development, and are certainly more\nvisible in the later corruptions of the Indian religion, beginning\nwith the Atharva_n_a, than in the earliest hymns of the Rig Veda.'\nNow, by the earliest accessible documents of religious thought,\nProfessor Max Mueller means the hymns of the Rig Veda. These hymns are\ncomposed in the most elaborate metre, by sages of old repute, who, I\npresume, occupied a position not unlike that of the singers and seers\nof Israel. They lived in an age of tolerably advanced cultivation.\nThey had wide geographical knowledge. They had settled government.\nThey dwelt in States. They had wealth of gold, of grain, and of\ndomesticated animals. Among the metals, they were acquainted with that\nwhich, in most countries, has been the latest worked--they used iron\npoles in their chariots. How then can the hymns of the most\nenlightened singers of a race thus far developed be called 'the\nearliest religious documents'? Oldest they may be, the oldest that are\naccessible, but this is a very different thing. How can we possibly\nargue that what is absent in these hymns, is absent because it had not\nyet come into existence? Is it not the very office of _pii vates et\nPhoebo digna locuti_ to purify religion, to cover up decently its rude\nshapes, as the unhewn stone was concealed in the fane of Apollo of\nDelos? If the race whose noblest and oldest extant hymns were pure,\nexhibits traces of fetichism in its later documents, may not that as\neasily result from a recrudescence as from a corruption? Professor Max\nMueller has still, moreover, to explain how the process of corruption\nwhich introduced the same fetichistic practices among Samoyeds,\nBrazilians, Kaffirs, and the people of the Atharva_n_a Veda came to be\neverywhere identical in its results.\n\nHere an argument often urged against the anthropological method may be\nshortly disposed of. 'You examine savages,' people say, 'but how do\nyou know that these savages were not once much more cultivated; that\ntheir whole mode of life, religion and all, is not debased and\ndecadent from an earlier standard?' Mr. Mueller glances at this\nargument, which, however, cannot serve his purpose. Mr. Mueller has\nrecognised that savage, or 'nomadic,' languages represent a much\nearlier state of language than anything that we find for example, in\nthe oldest Hebrew or Sanskrit texts. 'For this reason,' he says,[197]\n'the study of what I call _nomad_ languages, as distinguished from\n_State_ languages, becomes so instructive. We see in them what we can\nno longer expect to see even in the most ancient Sanskrit or Hebrew.\nWe watch the childhood of language with all its childish freaks.' Yes,\nadds the anthropologist, and for this reason the study of savage\nreligions, as distinguished from State religions, becomes so\ninstructive. We see in them what we can no longer expect to see even\nin the most ancient Sanskrit or Hebrew faiths. We watch the childhood\nof religion with all its childish freaks. If this reasoning be sound\nwhen the Kaffir tongue is contrasted with ancient Sanskrit, it should\nbe sound when the Kaffir faith is compared with the Vedic faith. By\nparity of reasoning, the religious beliefs of peoples as much less\nadvanced than the Kaffirs as the Kaffirs are less advanced than the\nVedic peoples, should be still nearer the infancy of faith, still\n'nearer the beginning.'\n\nWe have been occupied, perhaps, too long with De Brosses and our\napology for De Brosses. Let us now examine, as shortly as possible,\nMr. Max Mueller's reasons for denying that fetichism is 'a primitive\nform of religion.' The negative side of his argument being thus\ndisposed of, it will then be our business to consider (1) his\npsychological theory of the subjective element in religion, and (2)\nhis account of the growth of Indian religion. The conclusion of the\nessay will be concerned with demonstrating that Mr. Max Mueller's\nsystem assigns little or no place to the superstitious beliefs without\nwhich, in other countries than India, society could not have come into\norganised existence.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn his polemic against Fetichism, it is not always very easy to see\nagainst whom Mr. Mueller is contending. It is one thing to say that\nfetichism is a 'primitive form of religion,' and quite another to say\nthat it is 'the very beginning of all religion.' Occasionally he\nattacks the 'Comtian theory,' which, I think, is not now held by many\npeople who study the history of man, and which I am not concerned to\ndefend. He says that the Portuguese navigators who discovered among\nthe negroes 'no other trace of any religious worship' except what they\ncalled the worship of _feiticos_, concluded that this was the whole of\nthe religion of the negroes (p. 61). Mr. Mueller then goes on to prove\nthat 'no religion consists of fetichism only,' choosing his examples\nof higher elements in negro religion from the collections of Waitz. It\nis difficult to see what bearing this has on his argument. De Brosses\n(p. 20) shows that _he_, at least, was well aware that many negro\ntribes have higher conceptions of the Deity than any which are\nimplied in fetich-worship. Even if no tribe in the world is\nexclusively devoted to fetiches, the argument makes no progress.\nPerhaps no extant tribe is in the way of using unpolished stone\nweapons and no others, but it does not follow that unpolished stone\nweapons are not primitive. It is just as easy to maintain that the\npurer ideas have, by this time, been reached by aid of the\nstepping-stones of the grosser, as that the grosser are the corruption\nof the purer. Mr. Max Mueller constantly asserts that the 'human mind\nadvanced by small and timid steps from what is intelligible, to what\nis at first sight almost beyond comprehension' (p. 126). Among the\nobjects which aided man to take these small and timid steps, he\nreckons rivers and trees, which excited, he says, religious awe. What\nhe will not suppose is that the earliest small and timid steps were\nnot unaided by such objects as the fetichist treasures--stones,\nshells, and so forth, which suggest no idea of infinity. Stocks he\nwill admit, but not, if he can help it, stones, of the sort that\nnegroes and Kanekas and other tribes use as fetiches. His reason is,\nthat he does not see how the scraps of the fetichist can appeal to the\nfeeling of the Infinite, which feeling is, in his theory, the basis of\nreligion.\n\nAfter maintaining (what is readily granted) that negroes have a\nreligion composed of many elements, Mr. Mueller tries to discredit the\nevidence about the creeds of savages, and discourses on the many\nminute shades of progress which exist among tribes too often lumped\ntogether as if they were all in the same condition. Here he will have\nall scientific students of savage life on his side. It remains true,\nhowever, that certain elements of savage practice, fetichism being one\nof them, are practically ubiquitous. Thus, when Mr. Mueller speaks of\n'the influence of public opinion' in biassing the narrative of\ntravellers, we must not forget that the strongest evidence about\nsavage practice is derived from the 'undesigned coincidence' of the\ntestimonies of all sorts of men, in all ages, and all conditions of\npublic opinion. 'Illiterate men, ignorant of the writings of each\nother, bring the same reports from various quarters of the globe,'\nwrote Millar of Glasgow. When sailors, merchants, missionaries,\ndescribe, as matters unprecedented and unheard of, such institutions\nas polyandry, totemism, and so forth, the evidence is so strong,\nbecause the witnesses are so astonished. They do not know that any one\nbut themselves has ever noticed the curious facts before their eyes.\nAnd when Mr. Mueller tries to make the testimony about savage faith\nstill more untrustworthy, by talking of the 'absence of recognised\nauthority among savages,' do not let us forget that custom (~nomos~)\nis a recognised authority, and that the punishment of death is\ninflicted for transgression of certain rules. These rules generally\nspeaking, are of a religious nature, and the religion to which they\ntestify is of the sort known (too vaguely) as 'fetichistic.' Let us\nkeep steadily before our minds, when people talk of lack of evidence,\nthat we have two of the strongest sorts of evidence in the world for\nthe kind of religion which least suits Mr. Mueller's argument--(1) the\nundesigned coincidences of testimony, (2) the irrefutable witness and\nsanction of elementary criminal law. Mr. Mueller's own evidence is that\nmuch-disputed work, where 'all men see what they want to see, as in\nthe clouds,' and where many see systematised fetichism--the Veda.[198]\n\nThe first step in Mr. Max Mueller's polemic was the assertion that\nFetichism is nowhere unmixed. We have seen that the fact is capable of\nan interpretation that will suit either side. Stages of culture\noverlap each other. The second step in his polemic was the effort to\ndamage the evidence. We have seen that we have as good evidence as can\nbe desired. In the third place he asks, What are the antecedents of\nfetich-worship? He appears to conceive himself to be arguing with\npersons (p. 127) who 'have taken for granted that every human being\nwas miraculously endowed with the concept of what forms the predicate\nof every fetich, call it power, spirit, or god.' If there are\nreasoners so feeble, they must be left to the punishment inflicted by\nMr. Mueller. On the other hand, students who regard the growth of the\nidea of power, which is the predicate of every fetich, as a slow\nprocess, as the result of various impressions and trains of early\nhalf-conscious reasoning, cannot be disposed of by the charge that\nthey think that 'every human being was miraculously endowed' with any\nconcept whatever. They, at least, will agree with Mr. Max Mueller that\nthere are fetiches and fetiches, that to one reverence is assigned for\none reason, to another for another. Unfortunately, it is less easy to\nadmit that Mr. Max Mueller has been happy in his choice of ancient\ninstances. He writes (p. 99): 'Sometimes a stock or a stone was\nworshipped because it was a forsaken altar or an ancient place of\njudgment, sometimes because it marked the place of a great battle or a\nmurder, or the burial of a king.' Here he refers to Pausanias, book i.\n28, 5, and viii. 13, 2.[199] In both of these passages, Pausanias, it\nis true, mentions stones--in the first passage stones on which men\nstood ~hosoi dikas hypechousi kai hoi diokontes~, in the second,\nbarrows heaped up in honour of men who fell in battle. In neither\ncase, however, do I find anything to show that the stones were\nworshipped. These stones, then, have no more to do with the argument\nthan the milestones which certainly exist on the Dover road, but which\nare not the objects of superstitious reverence. No! the fetich-stones\nof Greece were those which occupied the holy of holies of the most\nancient temples, the mysterious fanes within dark cedar or cypress\ngroves, to which men were hardly admitted. They were the stones and\nblocks which bore the names of gods, Hera, or Apollo, names perhaps\ngiven, as De Brosses says, to the old fetichistic objects of worship,\n_after_ the anthropomorphic gods entered Hellas. This, at least, is\nthe natural conclusion from the fact that the Apollo and Hera of\nuntouched wood or stone were confessedly the _oldest_. Religion,\npossessing an old fetich, did not incur the risk of breaking the run\nof luck by discarding it, but wisely retained and renamed it. Mr. Max\nMueller says that the unhewn lump may indicate a higher power of\nabstraction than the worship paid to the work of Phidias; but in that\ncase all the savage adorers of rough stones _may_ be in a stage of\nmore abstract thought than these contemporaries of Phidias who had\nsuch very hard work to make Greek thought abstract.\n\nMr. Mueller founds a very curious argument on what he calls 'the\nubiquity of fetichism.' Like De Brosses, he compiles (from Pausanias)\na list of the rude stones worshipped by the early Greeks. He mentions\nvarious examples of fetichistic superstitions in Rome. He detects the\nfetichism of popular Catholicism, and of Russian orthodoxy among the\npeasants. Here, he cries, in religions the history of which is known\nto us, fetichism is secondary, 'and why should fetiches in Africa,\nwhere we do not know the earlier development of religion, be\nconsidered as primary?' What a singular argument! According to\nPausanias, this fetichism (if fetichism it is) _was_ primary, in\nGreece. The _oldest_ temples, in their holiest place, held the oldest\nfetich. In Rome, it is at least probable that fetichism, as in Greece,\nwas partly a survival, partly a new growth from the primal root of\nhuman superstitions. As to Catholicism, the records of Councils, the\ninvectives of the Church, show us that, from the beginning, the\nsecondary religion in point of time, the religion of the Church,\nlaboured vainly to suppress, and had in part to tolerate, the primary\nreligion of childish superstitions. The documents are before the\nworld. As to the Russians, the history of their conversion is pretty\nwell known. Jaroslaf, or Vladimir, or some other evangelist, had whole\nvillages baptised in groups, and the pagan peasants naturally kept up\ntheir primary semi-savage ways of thought and worship, under the\nsecondary varnish of orthodoxy. In all Mr. Max Mueller's examples,\nthen, fetichism turns out to be _primary_ in point of time;\n_secondary_ only, as subordinate to some later development of faith,\nor to some lately superimposed religion. Accepting his statement that\nfetichism is ubiquitous, we have the most powerful _a priori_ argument\nthat fetichism is primitive. As religions become developed they are\ndifferentiated; it is only fetichism that you find the same\neverywhere. Thus the bow and arrow have a wide range of distribution:\nthe musket, one not so wide; the Martini-Henry rifle, a still narrower\nrange: it is the primitive stone weapons that are ubiquitous, that are\nfound in the soil of England, Egypt, America, France, Greece, as in\nthe hands of Dieyries and Admiralty Islanders. And just as rough stone\nknives are earlier than iron ones (though the same race often uses\nboth), so fetichism is more primitive than higher and purer faiths,\nthough the same race often combines fetichism and theism. No one will\ndoubt the truth of this where weapons are concerned; but Mr. Max\nMueller will not look at religion in this way.\n\nMr. Max Mueller's remarks on 'Zoolatry,' as De Brosses calls it, or\nanimal-worship, require only the briefest comment. De Brosses, very\nunluckily, confused zoolatry with other superstitions under the head\nof Fetichism. This was unscientific; but is it scientific of Mr. Max\nMueller to discuss animal-worship without any reference to totemism?\nThe worship of sacred animals is found, in every part of the globe, to\nbe part of the sanction of the most stringent and important of all\nlaws, the laws of marriage. It is an historical truth that the society\nof Ashantees, Choctaws, Australians, is actually constructed by the\noperation of laws which are under the sanction of various sacred\nplants and animals.[200] There is scarcely a race so barbarous that\nthese laws are not traceable at work in its society, nor a people\n(especially an ancient people) so cultivated that its laws and\nreligion are not full of strange facts most easily explained as relics\nof totemism. Now note that actual living totemism is always combined\nwith the rudest ideas of marriage, with almost repulsive ideas about\nthe family. Presumably, this rudeness is earlier than culture, and\ntherefore this form of animal-worship is one of the earliest religions\nthat we know. The almost limitless distribution of the phenomena,\ntheir regular development, their gradual disappearance, all point to\nthe fact that they are all very early and everywhere produced by\nsimilar causes.\n\nOf all these facts, Mr. Max Mueller only mentions one--that many races\nhave called themselves Snakes, and he thinks they might naturally\nadopt the snake for ancestor, and finally for god. He quotes the\nremark of Diodorus that 'the snake may either have been made a god\nbecause he was figured on the banners, or may have been figured on the\nbanners because he was a god'; to which De Brosses, with his usual\nsense, rejoins: 'We represent saints on our banners because we revere\nthem; we do not revere them because we represent them on our banners.'\n\nIn a discussion about origins, and about the corruption of religion,\nit would have been well to account for institutions and beliefs almost\nuniversally distributed. We know, what De Brosses did not, that\nzoolatry is inextricably blent with laws and customs which surely must\nbe early, if not primitive, because they make the working faith of\nsocieties in which male descent and the modern family are not yet\nestablished. Any one who wishes to show that this sort of society is a\nlate corruption, not an early stage in evolution towards better\nthings, has a difficult task before him, which, however, he must\nundertake, before he can prove zoolatry to be a corruption of\nreligion.\n\nAs to the worship of ancestral and embodied human spirits, which (it\nhas been so plausibly argued) is the first moment in religion, Mr. Max\nMueller dismisses it, here, in eleven lines and a half. An isolated but\nimportant allusion at the close of his lectures will be noticed in its\nplace.\n\nThe end of the polemic against the primitiveness of fetichism deals\nwith the question, 'Whence comes the supernatural predicate of the\nfetich?' If a negro tells us his fetich is a god, whence got he the\nidea of 'god'? Many obvious answers occur. Mr. Mueller says, speaking\nof the Indians (p. 205): 'The concept of _gods_ was no doubt growing\nup while men were assuming a more and more definite attitude towards\nthese semi-tangible and intangible objects'--trees, rivers, hills, the\nsky, the sun, and so on, which he thinks suggested and developed, by\naid of a kind of awe, the religious feeling of the infinite. We too\nwould say that, among people who adore fetiches and ghosts, the\nconcept of gods no doubt silently grew up, as men assumed a more and\nmore definite attitude towards the tangible and intangible objects\nthey held sacred. Again, negroes have had the idea of god imported\namong them by Christians and Islamites, so that, even if they did not\nclimb (as De Brosses grants that many of them do) to purer religious\nideas unaided, these ideas are now familiar to them, and may well be\nused by them, when they have to explain a fetich to a European. Mr.\nMax Mueller explains the origin of religion by a term ('the Infinite')\nwhich, he admits, the early people would not have comprehended. The\nnegro, if he tells a white man that a fetich is a god, transposes\nterms in the same unscientific way. Mr. Mueller asks: 'How do these\npeople, when they have picked up their stone or their shell, pick up,\nat the same time, the concepts of a supernatural power, of spirit, of\ngod, and of worship paid to some unseen being?' But who says that men\npicked up these ideas _at the same time_? These ideas were evolved by\na long, slow, complicated process. It is not at all impossible that\nthe idea of a kind of 'luck' attached to this or that object, was\nevolved by dint of meditating on a mere series of lucky accidents.\nSuch or such a man, having found such an object, succeeded in hunting,\nfishing, or war. By degrees, similar objects might be believed to\ncommand success. Thus burglars carry bits of coal in their pockets,\n'for luck.' This random way of connecting causes and effects which\nhave really no inter-relation, is a common error of early reasoning.\nMr. Max Mueller says that 'this process of reasoning is far more in\naccordance with modern thought'; if so, modern thought has little to\nbe proud of. Herodotus, however, describes the process of thought as\nconsecrated by custom among the Egyptians. But there are many other\npractical ways in which the idea of supernatural power is attached to\nfetiches. Some fetich-stones have a superficial resemblance to other\nobjects, and thus (on the magical system of reasoning) are thought to\ninfluence these objects. Others, again, are pointed out as worthy of\nregard in dreams or by the ghosts of the dead.[201] To hold these\nviews of the origin of the supernatural predicate of fetiches is not\n'to take for granted that every human being was miraculously endowed\nwith the concept of what forms the predicate of every fetich.'\n\nThus we need not be convinced by Mr. Max Mueller that fetichism (though\nit necessarily has its antecedents in the human mind) is 'a corruption\nof religion.' It still appears to be one of the most primitive steps\ntowards the idea of the supernatural.\n\nWhat, then, is the subjective element of religion in man? How has he\nbecome capable of conceiving of the supernatural? What outward objects\nfirst awoke that dormant faculty in his breast? Mr. Max Mueller\nanswers, that man has 'the faculty of apprehending the infinite'--that\nby dint of this faculty he is capable of religion, and that sensible\nobjects, 'tangible, semi-tangible, intangible,' first roused the\nfaculty to religious activity, at least among the natives of India. He\nmeans, however, by the 'infinite' which savages apprehend, not our\nmetaphysical conception of the infinite, but the mere impression that\nthere is 'something beyond.' 'Everything of which his senses cannot\nperceive a limit, is to a primitive savage or to any man in an early\nstage of intellectual activity _unlimited_ or _infinite_.' Thus, in\nall experience, the idea of 'a beyond' is forced on men. If Mr. Max\nMueller would adhere to this theory, then we should suppose him to mean\n(what we hold to be more or less true) that savage religion, like\nsavage science, is merely a fanciful explanation of what lies beyond\nthe horizon of experience. For example, if the Australians mentioned\nby Mr. Max Mueller believe in a being who created the world, a being\nwhom they do not worship, and to whom they pay no regard (for, indeed,\nhe has become 'decrepit'), their theory is scientific, not religious.\nThey have looked for the causes of things, and are no more religious\n(in so doing) than Newton was when he worked out his theory of\ngravitation. The term 'infinite' is wrongly applied, because it is a\nterm of advanced thought used in explanation of the ideas of men who,\nMr. Max Mueller says, were incapable of conceiving the meaning of such\na concept. Again, it is wrongly applied, because it has some modern\nreligious associations, which are covertly and fallaciously introduced\nto explain the supposed emotions of early men. Thus, Mr. Mueller says\n(p. 177)--he is giving his account of the material things that awoke\nthe religious faculty--'the mere sight of the torrent or the stream\nwould have been enough to call forth in the hearts of the early\ndwellers on the earth ... a feeling that they were surrounded on all\nsides by powers invisible, infinite, or divine.' Here, if I understand\nMr. Mueller, 'infinite' is used in our modern sense. The question is,\nHow did men ever come to believe in powers infinite, invisible,\ndivine? If Mr. Mueller's words mean anything, they mean that a dormant\nfeeling that there were such existences lay in the breast of man, and\nwas wakened into active and conscious life, by the sight of a torrent\nor a stream. How, to use Mr. Mueller's own manner, did these people,\nwhen they saw a stream, have mentally, at the same time, 'a feeling of\n_infinite_ powers'? If this is not the expression of a theory of\n'innate religion' (a theory which Mr. Mueller disclaims), it is capable\nof being mistaken for that doctrine by even a careful reader. The\nfeeling of 'powers infinite, invisible, divine,' _must_ be in the\nheart, or the mere sight of a river could not call it forth. How did\nthe feeling get into the heart? That is the question.\n\nThe ordinary anthropologist distinguishes a multitude of causes, a\nvariety of processes, which shade into each other and gradually\nproduce the belief in powers invisible, infinite, and divine. What\ntribe is unacquainted with dreams, visions, magic, the apparitions of\nthe dead? Add to these the slow action of thought, the conjectural\ninferences, the guesses of crude metaphysics, the theories of isolated\nmen of religious and speculative genius. By all these and other forces\nmanifold, that emotion of awe in presence of the hills, the stars, the\nsea, is developed. Mr. Max Mueller cuts the matter shorter. The early\ninhabitants of the earth saw a river, and the 'mere sight' of the\ntorrent called forth the feelings which (to us) seem to demand ages of\nthe operation of causes disregarded by Mr. Mueller in his account of\nthe origin of Indian religion.\n\nThe mainspring of Mr. Mueller's doctrine is his theory about\n'apprehending the infinite.' Early religion, or at least that of\nIndia, was, in his view, the extension of an idea of Vastness, a\ndisinterested emotion of awe.[202] Elsewhere, we think, early religion\nhas been a development of ideas of Force, an interested search, not\nfor something wide and far and hard to conceive, but for something\npractically _strong_ for good and evil. Mr. Mueller (taking no count in\nthis place of fetiches, ghosts, dreams and magic) explains that the\nsense of 'wonderment' was wakened by objects only semi-tangible,\ntrees, which are _taller_ than we are, 'whose roots are beyond our\nreach, and which have a kind of life in them.' 'We are dealing with a\nquartenary, it may be a tertiary troglodyte,' says Mr. Mueller. If a\ntertiary troglodyte was like a modern Andaman Islander, a Kaneka, a\nDieyrie, would he stand and meditate in awe on the fact that a tree\nwas taller than he, or had 'a kind of life,' 'an unknown and\nunknowable, yet undeniable something'?[203] Why, this is the sentiment\nof modern Germany, and perhaps of the Indian sages of a cultivated\nperiod! A troglodyte would look for a 'possum in the tree, he would\ntap the trunk for honey, he would poke about in the bark after grubs,\nor he would worship anything odd in the branches. Is Mr. Mueller not\nunconsciously transporting a kind of modern malady of thought into\nthe midst of people who wanted to find a dinner, and who might worship\na tree if it had a grotesque shape, that, for them, had a magical\nmeaning, or if _boilyas_ lived in its boughs, but whose practical way\nof dealing with the problem of its life was to burn it round the stem,\nchop the charred wood with stone axes, and use the bark, branches, and\nleaves as they happened to come handy?\n\nMr. Mueller has a long list of semi-tangible objects 'overwhelming and\noverawing,' like the tree. There are mountains, where 'even a stout\nheart shivers before the real presence of the _infinite_'; there are\nrivers, those instruments of so sudden a religious awakening; there is\nearth. These supply the material for semi-deities. Then come sky,\nstars, dawn, sun and moon: 'in these we have the germs of what,\nhereafter, we shall have to call by the name of deities.'\n\nBefore we can transmute, with Mr. Mueller, these objects of a somewhat\nvague religious regard into a kind of gods, we have to adopt Noire's\nphilological theories, and study the effects of auxiliary verbs on the\ndevelopment of personification and of religion. Noire's philological\ntheories are still, I presume, under discussion. They are necessary,\nhowever, to Mr. Mueller's doctrine of the development of the vague\n'sense of the infinite' (wakened by fine old trees, and high\nmountains) into _devas_, and of _devas_ (which means 'shining ones')\ninto the Vedic gods. Our troglodyte ancestors, and their sweet feeling\nfor the spiritual aspect of landscape, are thus brought into relation\nwith the Rishis of the Vedas, the sages and poets of a pleasing\ncivilisation. The reverence felt for such comparatively refined or\nremote things as fire, the sun, wind, thunder, the dawn, furnished a\nseries of stepping-stones to the Vedic theology, if theology it can be\ncalled. It is impossible to give each step in detail; the process must\nbe studied in Mr. Mueller's lectures. Nor can we discuss the later\nchanges of faith. As to the processes which produced the fetichistic\n'corruption' (that universal and everywhere identical form of decay),\nMr. Mueller does not afford even a hint. He only says that, when the\nIndians found that their old gods were mere names, 'they built out of\nthe scattered bricks a new altar to the Unknown God'--a statement\nwhich throws no light on the parasitical development of fetichism. But\nhis whole theory is deficient if, having called fetichism a\n_corruption_, he does not show how corruption arose, how it operated,\nand how the disease attacked all religions everywhere.\n\nWe have contested, step by step, many of Mr. Mueller's propositions. If\nspace permitted, it would be interesting to examine the actual\nattitude of certain contemporary savages, Bushmen and others, towards\nthe sun. Contemporary savages may be degraded, they certainly are not\nprimitive, but their _legends_, at least, are the oldest things they\npossess. The supernatural elements in their ideas about the sun are\ncuriously unlike those which, according to Mr. Mueller, entered into\nthe development of Aryan religion.\n\nThe last remark which has to be made about Mr. Mueller's scheme of the\ndevelopment of Aryan religion is that the religion, as explained by\nhim, does not apparently aid the growth of society, nor work with it\nin any way. Let us look at a sub-barbaric society--say that of\nZululand, of New Zealand, of the Iroquois League, or at a savage\nsociety like that of the Kanekas, or of those Australian tribes about\nwhom we have very many interesting and copious accounts. If we begin\nwith the Australians, we observe that society is based on certain laws\nof marriage enforced by capital punishment. These laws of marriage\nforbid the intermixing of persons belonging to the stock which\nworships this or that animal, or plant. Now this rule, as already\nobserved, _made_ the 'gentile' system (as Mr. Morgan erroneously calls\nit) the system which gradually reduces tribal hostility, by making\ntribes homogeneous. The same system (with the religious sanction of a\nkind of zoolatry) is in force and has worked to the same result, in\nAfrica, Asia, America, and Australia, while a host of minute facts\nmake it a reasonable conclusion that it prevailed in Europe. Among\nthese facts certain peculiarities of Greek and Roman and Hindoo\nmarriage law, Greek, Latin, and English tribal names, and a crowd of\nlegends are the most prominent.[204] Mr. Max Mueller's doctrine of the\ndevelopment of Indian religion (while admitting the existence of Snake\nor Naga tribes) takes no account of the action of this universal\nzoolatry on religion and society.\n\nAfter marriage and after tribal institutions, look at _rank_. Is it\nnot obvious that the religious elements (magic and necromancy) left\nout of his reckoning by Mr. Mueller are most powerful in developing\nrank? Even among those democratic paupers, the Fuegians, 'the\ndoctor-wizard of each party has much influence over his companions.'\nAmong those other democrats, the Eskimo, a class of wizards, called\nAngakuts, become 'a kind of civil magistrates,' because they can cause\nfine weather, and can magically detect people who commit offences.\nThus the germs of rank, in these cases, are sown by the magic which is\nfetichism in action. Try the Zulus: 'the heaven is the chief's,' he\ncan call up clouds and storms, hence the sanction of his authority. In\nNew Zealand, every Rangatira has a supernatural power. If he touches\nan article, no one else dares to appropriate it, for fear of terrible\nsupernatural consequences. A head chief is 'tapued an inch thick, and\nperfectly unapproachable.' Magical power abides in and emanates from\nhim. By this superstition, an aristocracy is formed, and property (the\nproperty, at least, of the aristocracy) is secured. Among the Red\nIndians, as Schoolcraft says, 'priests and jugglers are the persons\nthat make war and have a voice in the sale of the land.' Mr. E. W.\nRobertson says much the same thing about early Scotland. If Odin was\nnot a god with the gifts of a medicine-man, and did not owe his\nchiefship to his talent for dealing with magic, he is greatly\nmaligned. The Irish Brehons also sanctioned legal decisions by magical\ndevices, afterwards condemned by the Church. Among the Zulus, 'the\n_Itongo_ (spirit) dwells with the great man; he who dreams is the\nchief of the village.' The chief alone can 'read in the vessel of\ndivination.' The Kaneka chiefs are medicine-men.\n\nHere then, in widely distant regions, in early European, American,\nMelanesian, African societies, we find those factors in religion which\nthe primitive Aryans are said to have dispensed with, helping to\nconstruct society, rank, property. Is it necessary to add that the\nancestral spirits still 'rule the present from the past,' and demand\nsacrifice, and speak to 'him who dreams,' who, therefore, is a strong\nforce in society, if not a chief? Mr. Herbert Spencer, Mr. Tylor, M.\nFustel de Coulanges, a dozen others, have made all this matter of\ncommon notoriety. As Hearne the traveller says about the Copper River\nIndians, 'it is almost necessary that they who rule them should\nprofess something a little supernatural to enable them to deal with\nthe people.' The few examples we have given show how widely, and among\nwhat untutored races, the need is felt. The rudimentary government of\nearly peoples requires, and, by aid of dreams, necromancy, 'medicine'\n(_i.e._, fetiches), _tapu_, and so forth, obtains, a supernatural\nsanction.\n\nWhere is the supernatural sanction that consecrated the chiefs of a\nrace which woke to the sense of the existence of infinite beings, in\nface of trees, rivers, the dawn, the sun, and had none of the\nso-called late and corrupt fetichism that does such useful social\nwork?\n\nTo the student of other early societies, Mr. Mueller's theory of the\ngrowth of Aryan religion seems to leave society without cement, and\nwithout the most necessary sanctions. One man is as good as another,\nbefore a tree, a river, a hill. The savage organisers of other\nsocieties found out fetiches and ghosts that were 'respecters of\npersons.' Zoolatry is intertwisted with the earliest and most\nwidespread law of prohibited degrees. How did the Hindoos dispense\nwith the aid of these superstitions? Well, they did not quite dispense\nwith them. Mr. Max Mueller remarks, almost on his last page (376), that\n'in India also ... the thoughts and feelings about those whom death\nhad separated from us for a time, supplied some of the earliest and\nmost important elements of religion.' If this was the case, surely the\npresence of those elements and their influence should have been\nindicated along with the remarks about the awfulness of trees and the\nsuggestiveness of rivers. Is nothing said about the spirits of the\ndead and their cult in the Vedas? Much is said, of course. But, were\nit otherwise, then other elements of savage religion may also have\nbeen neglected there, and it will be impossible to argue that\nfetichism did not exist because it is not mentioned. It will also be\nimpossible to admit that the _Hibbert Lectures_ give more than a\none-sided account of the Origin of Indian Religion.\n\nThe perusal of Mr. Max Mueller's book deeply impresses one with the\nnecessity of studying early religions and early societies\nsimultaneously. If it be true that early Indian religion lacked\nprecisely those superstitions, so childish, so grotesque, and yet so\nuseful, which we find at work in contemporary tribes, and which we\nread of in history, the discovery is even more remarkable and\nimportant than the author of the _Hibbert Lectures_ seems to suppose.\nIt is scarcely necessary to repeat that the negative evidence of the\nVedas, the religious utterances of sages, made in a time of what we\nmight call 'heroic culture,' can never disprove the existence of\nsuperstitions which, if current in the former experience of the race,\nthe hymnists, as Barth observes, would intentionally ignore. Our\nobject has been to defend the 'primitiveness of fetichism.' By this we\ndo not mean to express any opinion as to whether fetichism (in the\nstrictest sense of the word) was or was not earlier than totemism,\nthan the worship of the dead, or than the involuntary sense of awe and\nterror with which certain vast phenomena may have affected the\nearliest men. We only claim for the powerful and ubiquitous practices\nof fetichism a place _among_ the early elements of religion, and\ninsist that what is so universal has not yet been shown to be 'a\ncorruption' of something older and purer.\n\nOne remark of Mr. Max Mueller's fortifies these opinions. If fetichism\nbe indeed one of the earliest factors of faith in the supernatural; if\nit be, in its rudest forms, most powerful in proportion to other\nelements of faith among the least cultivated races (and _that_ Mr.\nMueller will probably allow)--among what class of cultivated peoples\nwill it longest hold its ground? Clearly, among the least cultivated,\namong the fishermen, the shepherds of lonely districts, the peasants\nof outlying lands--in short, among the _people_. Neglected by sacred\npoets in the culminating period of purity in religion, it will linger\namong the superstitions of the rustics. There is no real break in the\ncontinuity of peasant life; the modern folklore is (in many points)\nthe savage ritual. Now Mr. Mueller, when he was minimising the\nexistence of fetichism in the Rig Veda (the oldest collection of\nhymns), admitted its existence in the Atharva_n_a (p. 60).[205] On p.\n151, we read 'the Atharva-veda-Sanhita is a later collection,\ncontaining, besides a large number of Rig Veda verses, _some curious\nrelics of popular poetry connected with charms, imprecations, and\nother superstitious usages_.' The italics are mine, and are meant to\nemphasise this fact:--When we leave the sages, the Rishis, and look at\nwhat is _popular_, look at what that class believed which of savage\npractice has everywhere retained so much, we are at once among the\ncharms and the fetiches! This is precisely what one would have\nexpected. If the history of religion and of mythology is to be\nunravelled, we must examine what the unprogressive classes in Europe\nhave in common with Australians and Bushmen, and Andaman Islanders. It\nis the function of the people to retain in folklore these elements of\nreligion, which it is the high duty of the sage and the poet to purify\naway in the fire of refining thought. It is for this very reason that\n_ritual_ has (though Mr. Max Mueller curiously says that it seems not\nto possess) an immense scientific interest. Ritual holds on, with the\ntenacity of superstition, to all that has ever been practised. Yet,\nwhen Mr. Mueller wants to know about _origins_, about actual ancient\n_practice_, he deliberately turns to that 'great collection of ancient\npoetry' (the Rig Veda) 'which has no special reference to sacrificial\nacts,' not to the Brahmanas which are full of ritual.\n\nTo sum up briefly:--(1) Mr. Mueller's arguments against the evidence\nfor, and the primitiveness of, fetichism seem to demonstrate the\nopposite of that which he intends them to prove. (2) His own evidence\nfor _primitive_ practice is chosen from the documents of a\n_cultivated_ society. (3) His theory deprives that society of the very\ninfluences which have elsewhere helped the Tribe, the Family, Rank,\nand Priesthoods to grow up, and to form the backbone of social\nexistence.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[197] _Lectures on Language._ Second Series, p. 41.\n\n[198] A defence of the evidence for our knowledge of savage faiths,\npractices, and ideas will be found in _Primitive Culture_, i. 9-11.\n\n[199] A third reference to Pausanias I have been unable to verify.\nThere are several references to Greek fetich-stones in Theophrastus'\naccount of the Superstitious Man. A number of Greek sacred stones\nnamed by Pausanias may be worth noticing. In Boeotia (ix. 16), the\npeople believed that Alcmene, mother of Heracles, was changed into a\nstone. The Thespians worshipped, under the name of Eros, an unwrought\nstone, ~agalma palaiotaton~, 'their most ancient sacred object' (ix.\n27). The people of Orchomenos 'paid extreme regard to certain stones,'\nsaid to have fallen from heaven, 'or to certain figures made of stone\nthat descended from the sky' (ix. 38). Near Chaeronea Rhea was said to\nhave deceived Cronus, by offering him, in place of Zeus, a stone\nwrapped in swaddling bands. This stone, which Cronus vomited forth\nafter having swallowed it, was seen by Pausanias at Delphi (ix. 41).\nBy the roadside, near the city of the Panopeans, lay the stones out of\nwhich Prometheus made men (x. 4). The stone swallowed in place of Zeus\nby his father lay at the exit from the Delphian temple and was\nanointed (compare the action of Jacob, Gen. xxviii. 18) with oil every\nday. The Phocians worshipped thirty squared stones, each named after a\ngod (vii. xxii.). '_Among all the Greeks rude stones were worshipped\nbefore the images of the gods._' Among the Troezenians a sacred stone\nlay in front of the temple, whereon the Troezenian elders sat, and\npurified Orestes from the murder of his mother. In Attica there was a\nconical stone worshipped as Apollo (i. xliv.). Near Argos was a stone\ncalled Zeus Cappotas, on which Orestes was said to have sat down, and\nso recovered peace of mind. Such are examples of the sacred stones,\nthe oldest worshipful objects, of Greece.\n\n[200] See Essays on 'Apollo and the Mouse' and 'The Early History of\nthe Family.'\n\n[201] Here I may mention a case illustrating the motives of the\nfetich-worshipper. My friend, Mr. J. J. Atkinson, who has for many\nyears studied the manners of the people of New Caledonia, asked a\nnative _why_ he treasured a certain fetich stone. The man replied\nthat, in one of the vigils which are practised beside the corpses of\ndeceased friends, he saw a lizard. The lizard is a totem, a worshipful\nanimal in New Caledonia. The native put out his hand to touch it, when\nit disappeared and left a stone in its place. This stone he therefore\nheld sacred in the highest degree. Here then a fetich-stone was\nindicated as such by a spirit in form of a lizard.\n\n[202] Much the same theory is propounded in Mr. Mueller's lectures on\n'The Science of Religion.'\n\n[203] The idea is expressed in a well-known parody of Wordsworth,\nabout the tree which--\n\n    'Will grow ten times as tall as me\n    And live ten times as long.'\n\n[204] See Essay on 'The Early History of the Family.'\n\n[205] Bergaigne's _La Religion Vedique_ may be consulted for Vedic\nFetichism.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FAMILY.\n\n_THE EARLY HISTORY OF THE FAMILY._\n\n\nWhat are the original forms of the human family? Did man begin by\nbeing monogamous or polygamous, but, in either case, the master of his\nown home and the assured central point of his family relations? Or\nwere the unions of the sexes originally shifting and precarious, so\nthat the wisest child was not expected to know his own father, and\nfamily ties were reckoned through the mother alone? Again (setting\naside the question of what was 'primitive' and 'original'), did the\nneeds and barbarous habits of early men lead to a scarcity of women,\nand hence to polyandry (that is, the marriage of one woman to several\nmen), with the consequent uncertainty about male parentage? Once more,\nadmitting that these loose and strange relations of the sexes do\nprevail, or have prevailed, among savages, is there any reason to\nsuppose that the stronger races, the Aryan and Semitic stocks, ever\npassed through this stage of savage customs? These are the main\nquestions debated between what we may call the 'historical' and the\n'anthropological' students of ancient customs.\n\nWhen Sir Henry Maine observed, in 1861, that it was difficult to say\nwhat society of men had _not been_, originally, based on the\npatriarchal family, he went, of course, outside the domain of history.\nWhat occurred in the very origin of human society is a question\nperhaps quite inscrutable. Certainly, history cannot furnish the\nanswer. Here the anthropologist and physiologist come in with their\nmethods, and even those, we think, can throw but an uncertain light on\nthe very 'origin' of institutions, and on strictly primitive man.\n\nFor the purposes of this discussion, we shall here re-state the chief\npoints at issue between the adherents of Sir Henry Maine and of Mr.\nM'Lennan, between historical and anthropological inquirers.\n\n1. Did man _originally_ live in the patriarchal family, or did he live\nin more or less modified promiscuity, with uncertainty of blood-ties,\nand especially of male parentage?\n\n2. Did circumstances and customs at some time compel or induce man\n(whatever his _original_ condition) to resort to practices which made\npaternity uncertain, and so caused kinship to be reckoned through\nwomen?\n\n3. Granting that some races have been thus reduced to matriarchal\nforms of the family--that is, to forms in which the woman is the\npermanent recognised centre--is there any reason to suppose that the\nstronger peoples, like the Aryans and the Semites, ever passed through\na stage of culture in which female, not male, kinship was chiefly\nrecognised, probably as a result of polyandry, of many husbands to one\nwife?\n\nOn this third question, it will be necessary to produce much evidence\nof very different sorts: evidence which, at best, can perhaps only\nwarrant an inference, or presumption, in favour of one or the other\nopinion. For the moment, the impartial examination of testimony is\nmore important and practicable than the establishment of any theory.\n\n(1) Did man _originally_ live in the patriarchal family, the male\nbeing master of his female mate or mates, and of his children? On this\nfirst point Sir Henry Maine, in his new volume,[206] may be said to\ncome as near proving his case as the nature and matter of the question\nwill permit. Bachofen, M'Lennan, and Morgan, all started from a\nhypothetical state of more or less modified sexual promiscuity.\nBachofen's evidence (which may be referred to later) was based on a\ngreat mass of legends, myths, and travellers' tales, chiefly about\nearly Aryan practices. He discovered _Hetaerismus_, as he called it, or\npromiscuity, among Lydians, Etruscans, Persians, Thracians, Cyrenian\nnomads, Egyptians, Scythians, Troglodytes, Nasamones, and so forth.\nMr. M'Lennan's view is, perhaps, less absolutely stated than Sir Henry\nMaine supposes. M'Lennan says[207] 'that there has been a stage in the\ndevelopment of the human races, when there was no such appropriation\nof women to particular men; when, in short, marriage, _as it exists\namong civilised nations_, was not practised. Marriage, _in this\nsense_, was yet undreamt of.' Mr. M'Lennan adds (pp. 130, 131), 'as\namong other gregarious animals, the unions of the sexes were probably,\nin the earliest times, loose, transitory, and, _in some degree_,\npromiscuous.'\n\nSir Henry Maine opposes to Mr. M'Lennan's theory the statement of\nMr. Darwin: 'From all we know of the passions of all male\nquadrupeds, promiscuous intercourse in a state of Nature is highly\nimprobable.'[208] On this first question, let us grant to Sir Henry\nMaine, to Mr. Darwin, and to common-sense that if the very earliest\nmen were extremely animal in character, their unions while they\nlasted were probably monogamous or polygamous. The sexual jealousy\nof the male would secure that result, as it does among many other\nanimals. Let the first point, then, be scored to Sir Henry Maine:\nlet it be granted that if man was created perfect, he lived in the\nmonogamous family before the Fall: and that, if he was evolved as an\nanimal, the unchecked animal instincts would make for monogamy or\npatriarchal polygamy in the strictly primitive family.\n\n(2) Did circumstances and customs ever or anywhere compel or induce\nman (whatever his original condition) to resort to practices which\nmade paternity uncertain, and so caused the absence of the patriarchal\nfamily, kinship being reckoned through women? If this question be\nanswered in the affirmative, and if the sphere of action of the\nvarious causes be made wide enough, it will not matter much to Mr.\nM'Lennan's theory whether the strictly primitive family was\npatriarchal or not. If there occurred a fall from the primitive\nfamily, and if that fall was extremely general, affecting even the\nAryan race, Mr. M'Lennan's adherents will be amply satisfied. Their\nobject is to show that the family, even in the Aryan race, was\ndeveloped through a stage of loose savage connections. If that can be\nshown, they do not care much about primitive man properly so called.\nSir Henry Maine admits, as a matter of fact, that among certain races,\nin certain districts, circumstances have overridden the sexual\njealousy which secures the recognition of male parentage. Where women\nhave been few, and where poverty has been great, jealousy has been\nsuppressed, even in the Venice of the eighteenth century. Sir H. Maine\nsays: 'The usage' (that of polyandry--many husbands to a single wife)\n'seems to me one which circumstances overpowering morality and decency\nmight at any time call into existence. It is known to have arisen in\nthe native Indian army.' The question now is, what are the\ncircumstances that overpower morality and decency, and so produce\npolyandry, with its necessary consequences, when it is a recognised\ninstitution--the absence of the patriarchal family, and the\nrecognition of kinship through women? Any circumstances which cause\ngreat scarcity of women will conduce to those results. Mr. M'Lennan's\nopinion was, that the chief cause of scarcity of women has been the\ncustom of female infanticide--of killing little girls as _bouches\ninutiles_. Sir Henry Maine admits that 'the cause assigned by M'Lennan\nis a _vera causa_--it is capable of producing the effects.'[209] Mr.\nM'Lennan collected a very large mass of testimony to prove the wide\nexistence of this cause of paucity of women. Till that evidence is\npublished, I can only say that it was sufficient, in Mr. M'Lennan's\nopinion, to demonstrate the wide prevalence of the factor which is\nthe mainspring of his whole system.[210] How frightfully female\ninfanticide has prevailed in India, every one may read in the official\nreports of Col. M'Pherson, and other English authorities. Mr. Fison's\n_Kamilaroi and Kurnai_ contains some notable, though not to my mind\nconvincing, arguments on the other side. Sir Henry Maine adduces\nanother cause of paucity of women: the wanderings of our race, and\nexpeditions across sea.[211] This cause would not, however, be\nimportant enough to alter forms of kinship, where the invaders (like\nthe early English in Britain) found a population which they could\nconquer and whose women they could appropriate.\n\nApart from any probable inferences that may be drawn from the presumed\npractice of female infanticide, actual ascertained facts prove that\nmany races do not now live, or that recently they did not live, in the\npatriarchal or modern family. They live, or did live, in polyandrous\nassociations. The Thibetans, the Nairs, the early inhabitants of\nBritain (according to Caesar), and many other races,[212] as well as\nthe inhabitants of the Marquesas Islands, and the Iroquois (according\nto Lafitau), practise, or have practised, polyandry.\n\nWe now approach the third and really important problem--(3) Is there\nany reason to suppose that the stronger peoples, like the Aryans and\nthe Semites, ever passed through a stage of culture in which female,\nnot male, kinship was chiefly recognised, probably as a result of\npolyandry?\n\nNow the nature of the evidence which affords a presumption that Aryans\nhave all passed through Australian institutions, such as polyandry, is\nof extremely varied character. Much of it may undoubtedly be explained\naway. But such strength as the evidence has (which we do not wish to\nexaggerate) is derived from its convergence to one point--namely, the\nanterior existence of polyandry and the matriarchal family among\nAryans before and after the dawn of real history.\n\nFor the sake of distinctness we may here number the heads of the\nevidence bearing on this question. We have--\n\n1. The evidence of inference from the form of capture in bridal\nceremonies.\n\n2. The evidence from exogamy: the law which forbids marriage between\npersons of the same family name.\n\n3. The evidence from totemism--that is, the derivation of the family\nname and crest or badge, from some natural object, plant or\nanimal.[213] Persons bearing the name may not intermarry, nor, as a\nrule, may they eat the object from which they derive their family name\nand from which they claim to be descended.\n\n4. The evidence from the _gens_ of Rome, or ~genos~ of ancient Greece,\nin connection with Totemism.\n\n5. The evidence from myth and legend.\n\n6. The evidence from direct historical statements as to the prevalence\nof the matriarchal family, and inheritance through the maternal line.\n\nTo take these various testimonies in their order, let us begin with--\n\n(1) The form of capture in bridal ceremonies. That this form survived\nin Sparta, Crete, in Hindoo law, in the traditions of Ireland, in the\npopular rustic customs of Wales, is not denied.\n\nIf we hold, with Mr. M'Lennan, that scarcity of women (produced by\nfemale infanticide or otherwise) is the cause of the habit of\ncapturing wives, we may see, in survivals of this ceremony of capture\namong Aryans, a proof of early scarcity of women, and of probable\npolyandry. But an opponent may argue, like Mr. J. A. Farrer in\n_Primitive Manners_, that the ceremony of capture is mainly a\nconcession to maiden modesty among early races. Here one may observe\nthat the girls of savage tribes are notoriously profligate and\nimmodest about illicit connections. Only honourable marriage brings a\nblush to the cheek of these young persons. This is odd, but, in the\npresent state of the question, we cannot lean on the evidence of the\nceremony of capture. We cannot demonstrate that it is derived from a\ntime when paucity of women made capture of brides necessary. Thus\n'honours are easy' in this first deal.\n\n(2) The next indication is very curious, and requires much more\nprolonged discussion. The custom of _Exogamy_ was first noted and\nnamed by Mr. M'Lennan. Exogamy is the prohibition of marriage within\nthe supposed blood-kinship, as denoted by the family name. Such\nmarriage, among many backward races, is reckoned incestuous, and is\npunishable by death. Certain peculiarities in connection with the\nfamily name have to be noted later. Now, Sir Henry Maine admits that\nexogamy, as thus defined, exists among the Hindoos. 'A Hindoo may not\nmarry a woman belonging to the same _gotra_, all members of the\n_gotra_ being theoretically supposed to have descended from the same\nancestor.' The same rule prevails in China. 'There are in China large\nbodies of related clansmen, each generally bearing the same clan-name.\nThey are exogamous; no man will marry a woman having the same\nclan-name with himself.' It is admitted by Sir Henry Maine that this\nwide prohibition of marriage was the early Aryan rule, while advancing\ncivilisation has gradually permitted marriage within limits once\nforbidden. The Greek Church now (according to Mr. M'Lennan), and the\nCatholic Church in the past, forbade intermarriages 'as far as\nrelationship could be known.' The Hindoo rule appears to go still\nfurther, and to prohibit marriage as far as the common _gotra_ name\nseems merely to indicate relationship.\n\nAs to the ancient Romans, Plutarch says: 'Formerly they did not marry\nwomen connected with them by blood, any more than they now marry aunts\nor sisters. It was long before they would even intermarry with\ncousins.'[214] Plutarch also remarks that, in times past, Romans did\nnot marry ~syngenidas~, and if we may render this 'women of the same\n_gens_,' the exogamous prohibition in Rome was as complete as among\nthe Hindoos. I do not quite gather from Sir Henry Maine's account of\nthe Slavonic house communities (pp. 254, 255) whether they dislike\n_all_ kindred marriages, or only marriage within the 'greater\nblood'--that is, within the kinship on the male side. He says: 'The\nSouth Slavonians bring their wives into the group, in which they are\nsocially organised, from a considerable distance outside.... Every\nmarriage which requires an ecclesiastical dispensation is regarded as\ndisreputable.'\n\nOn the whole, wide prohibitions of marriage are archaic: the widest\nare savage; the narrowest are modern and civilised. Thus the Hindoo\nprohibition is old, barbarous and wide. 'The barbarous Aryan,' says\nSir Henry Maine, 'is generally exogamous. He has a most extensive\ntable of prohibited degrees.' Thus exogamy seems to be a survival of\nbarbarism. The question for us is, Can we call exogamy a survival from\na period when (owing to scarcity of women and polyandry) clear ideas\nof kinship were impossible? If this can be proved, exogamous Aryans\neither passed through polyandrous institutions, or borrowed a savage\ncustom derived from a period when ideas of kinship were obscure.\n\nIf we only knew the origin of the prohibition to marry within the\nfamily name all would be plain sailing. At present several theories of\nthe origin of exogamy are before the world. Mr. Morgan, the author of\n_Ancient Society_, inclines to trace the prohibition to a great early\nphysiological discovery, acted on by primitive men by virtue of a\n_contrat social_. Early man discovered that children of unsound\nconstitutions were born of nearly-related parents. Mr. Morgan says:\n'Primitive men very early discovered the evils of close\ninterbreeding.' Elsewhere Mr. Morgan writes: 'Intermarriage in the\n_gens_ was prohibited, to secure the benefits of marrying out with\nunrelated persons.' This arrangement 'was a product of high\nintelligence,' and Mr. Morgan calls it a 'reform.'[215]\n\nLet us examine this very curious theory. First: Mr. Morgan supposes\nearly man to have made a discovery (the evils of the marriage of near\nkin) which evades modern physiological science. Modern science has not\ndetermined that the marriages of kinsfolk are pernicious. Is it\ncredible that savages should discover a fact which puzzles science? It\nmay be replied that modern care, nursing, and medical art save\nchildren of near marriages from results which were pernicious to the\nchildren of early man. Secondly: Mr. Morgan supposes that barbarous\nman (so notoriously reckless of the morrow as he is) not only made\nthe discovery of the evils of interbreeding, but acted on it with\npromptitude and self-denial. Thirdly: Mr. Morgan seems to require, for\nthe enforcement of the exogamous law, a _contrat social_. The larger\ncommunities meet, and divide themselves into smaller groups, within\nwhich wedlock is forbidden. This 'social pact' is like a return to the\nideas of Rousseau. Fourthly: The hypothesis credits early men with\nknowledge and discrimination of near degrees of kin, which they might\nwell possess if they lived in patriarchal families, but which, _ex\nhypothesi_, they could not possess. But it represents that they did\nnot act on their knowledge. Instead of prohibiting marriage between\nparents and children, cousins, nephews and aunts, uncles and nieces,\nthey prohibited marriage within the limit of the name of the kin. This\nis still the Hindoo rule, and, if the Romans really might not at one\ntime marry within the _gens_, it was the Roman rule. Now observe, this\nrule fails to effect the very purpose for which _ex hypothesi_ it was\ninstituted. Where the family name goes by the male side, marriages\nbetween cousins are permitted, as in India and China. These are the\nvery marriages which some theorists now denounce as pernicious. But,\nif the family name goes by the female side, marriages between\nhalf-brothers and half-sisters are permitted, as in ancient Athens and\namong the Hebrews of Abraham's time. Once more, the exogamous\nprohibition excludes, in China, America, Africa, Australia, persons\nwho are in no way akin (according to our ideas) from intermarriage.\nThus Mr. Doolittle writes,[216] 'Males and females of the same surname\nwill never intermarry in China. Cousins who have not the same\nancestral surname may intermarry. Though the ancestors of persons of\nthe same surname have not known each other for thousands of years,\nthey may not intermarry.' The Hindoo _gotra_ rule produces the same\neffects.\n\nFor all these reasons, and because of the improbability of the\nphysiological discovery, and of the moral 'reform' which enforced it;\nand again, because the law is not of the sort which people acquainted\nwith near degrees of kinship would make; and once more because the law\nfails to effect its presumed purpose, while it does attain ends at\nwhich it does not aim--we cannot accept Mr. Morgan's suggestion as to\nthe origin of exogamy. Mr. M'Lennan did not live to publish a subtle\ntheory of the origin of exogamy, which he had elaborated. In _Studies\nin Ancient History_ he hazarded a conjecture based on female\ninfanticide:--\n\n    We believe the restrictions on marriage to be connected with\n    the practice in early times of female infanticide, which\n    rendering women scarce, led at once to polyandry within the\n    tribe, and the capturing of women from without.... Hence the\n    cruel custom which, leaving the primitive human hordes with\n    very few young women of their own, occasionally with none,\n    and in any case seriously disturbing the balance of the sexes\n    within the hordes, forces them to prey upon one another for\n    wives. Usage, induced by necessity, would in time establish a\n    prejudice among the tribes observing it, a prejudice strong\n    as a principle of religion--as every prejudice relating to\n    marriage is apt to be--against marrying women of their own\n    stock.\n\nMr. M'Lennan describes his own hypothesis as 'a suggestion thrown out\nat what it was worth.'[217] In his later years, as we have said, he\ndeveloped a very subtle and ingenious theory of the origin of exogamy,\nstill connecting it with scarcity of women, but making use of various\nsupposed stages and processes in the development of the law. That\nspeculation remains unpublished. To myself, the suggestion given in\n_Studies in Ancient History_ seems inadequate. I find it difficult to\nconceive that the frequent habit of stealing women should indispose\nmen to marry the native women they had at hand. That this\nindisposition should grow into a positive law, and the infringement of\nthe law be regarded as a capital offence, seems more inconceivable. My\nown impression is, that exogamy may be connected with some early\nsuperstition or idea of which we have lost the touch, and which we can\nno longer explain.[218] Possibly it may be only one form of the Totem\ntaboo. You may not marry a woman of your totem, as you may not eat an\nanimal of the species.\n\nThus far, the consideration of exogamy has thrown no clear light on\nthe main question--the question whether the customs of civilised races\ncontain relics of female kinship. On Mr. Lewis Morgan's theory of\nexogamy, that Aryan custom is unconnected with female kinship,\npolyandry, and scarcity of women. On Mr. M'Lennan's theory, exogamy is\nthe result of scarcity of women, and implies polyandry and female\nkinship. But neither theory has seemed satisfactory. Yet we need not\ndespair of extracting some evidence from exogamy, and that evidence,\non the whole, is in favour of Mr. M'Lennan's general hypothesis. (1)\nThe exogamous prohibition must have first come into force _when\nkinship was only reckoned on one side of the family_. This is obvious,\nwhether we suppose it to have arisen in a society which reckoned by\nmale or by female kinship. In the former case, the law only prohibits\nmarriage with persons of the father's, in the second case with persons\nof the mother's, family name, and these only it recognises as kindred.\n(2) Our second point is much more important. The exogamous prohibition\nmust first have come into force _when kinship was so little understood\nthat it could best be denoted by the family name_. This would be\nself-evident, if we could suppose the prohibition to be intended to\nprevent marriages of relations.[219] Had the authors of the\nprohibition been acquainted with the nature of near kinships, they\nwould simply (as we do) have forbidden marriage between persons in\nthose degrees. The very nature of the prohibition, on the other hand,\nshows that kinship was understood in a manner all unlike our modern\nsystem. The limit of kindred was everywhere the family name: a limit\nwhich excludes many real kinsfolk and includes many who are not\nkinsfolk at all. In Australia especially, and in America, India, and\nAfrica, to a slighter extent, that definition of kindred by the family\nname actually includes alligators, smoke, paddy melons, rain,\ncrayfish, sardines, and what you please.[220] Will any one assert,\nthen, that people among whom the exogamous prohibition arose were\norganised on the system of the patriarchal family, which permits the\nnature of kinship to be readily understood at a glance? Is it not\nplain that the exogamous prohibition (confessedly Aryan) must have\narisen in a stage of culture when ideas of kindred were confused,\nincluded kinship with animals and plants, and were to us almost, if\nnot quite, unintelligible? It is even possible, as Mr. M'Lennan\nsays,[221] 'that the prejudice against marrying women of the same\ngroup may have been established _before the facts of blood\nrelationship had made any deep impression on the human mind_.' How the\nexogamous prohibition tends to confirm this view will next be set\nforth in our consideration of _Totemism_.\n\n(3) _The Evidence from Totemism._--Totemism is the name for the custom\nby which a stock (scattered through many local tribes) claims descent\nfrom and kindred with some plant, animal, or other natural object.\nThis object, of which the effigy is sometimes worn as a badge or\ncrest, members of the stock refuse to eat. As a general rule, marriage\nis prohibited between members of the stock--between all, that is, who\nclaim descent from the same object and wear the same badge. The\nexogamous limit, therefore, is denoted by the stock-name and crest,\nand kinship is kinship in the wolf, bear, potato, or whatever other\nobject is recognised as the original ancestor. Finally, as a general\nrule, the stock-name is derived through the mother, and where it is\nderived through the father there are proofs that the custom is\ncomparatively modern. It will be acknowledged that this sort of\nkindred, which is traced to a beast, bird, or tree, which is\nrecognised in every person bearing the same stock-name, which is\ncounted through females, and which governs marriage customs, is not\nthe sort of kindred that would naturally arise among people regulated\non the patriarchal or monandrous family system. Totemism, however, is\na widespread institution prevailing all over the north of the American\ncontinent, also in Peru (according to Garcilasso de la Vega); in\nGuiana (the negroes have brought it from the African Gold Coast, where\nit is in full force, as it also is among the Bechuanas); in India\namong Hos, Garos, Kassos, and Oraons; in the South Sea Islands, where\nit has left strong traces in Mangaia; in Siberia, and especially in\nthe great island continent of Australia. The Semitic evidences for\ntotemism (animal-worship, exogamy, descent claimed through females)\nare given by Professor Robertson Smith, in the _Journal of Philology_,\nix. 17, _Animal Worship and Animal Tribes among the Arabs, and in the\nOld Testament_. Many other examples of totemism might be adduced\n(especially from Egypt), but we must restrict ourselves to the\nfollowing questions:--\n\n1. What light is thrown on the original form of the family by\ntotemism? 2. Where we find survivals of totemism among civilised\nraces, may we conclude that these races (through scarcity of women)\nhad once been organised on other than the patriarchal model?\n\nAs to the first question, we must remember that the origin and\ndetermining causes of totemism are still unknown. Mr. M'Lennan's\ntheory of the origin of totemism has never been published.[222] It may\nbe said without indiscretion that Mr. M'Lennan once thought totemism\narose at a period when ideas of kinship scarcely existed at all. 'Men\nonly thought of marking one off from another,' as Garcilasso de la\nVega says: the totem was but a badge worn by all the persons who found\nthemselves existing in close relations; perhaps in the same cave or\nset of caves. People united by contiguity, and by the blind sentiment\nof kinship not yet brought into explicit consciousness, might mark\nthemselves by a badge, and might thence derive a name, and, later,\nmight invent a myth of their descent from the object which the badge\nrepresented. I do not know whether it has been observed that the\ntotems are, as a rule, objects which may be easily drawn or tattooed,\nand still more easily indicated in gesture-language. Some interesting\nfacts will be found in the _First Annual Report of the Bureau of\nEthnology_, p. 458 (Washington, 1881). Here we read how the 'Crow'\ntribe is indicated in sign-language by 'the hands held out on each\nside, striking the air in the manner of flying.' The Bunaks (another\nbird tribe) are indicated by an imitation of the cry of the bird. In\nmentioning the Snakes, the hand imitates the crawling motion of the\nserpent, and the fingers pointed up behind the ear denote the Wolves.\nPlainly names of the totem sort are well suited to the convenience of\nsavages, who converse much in gesture-language. Above all, the very\nnature of totemism shows that it took its present shape at a time when\nmen, animals, and plants were conceived of as physically akin; when\nnames were handed on through the female line; when exogamy was the\nrule of marriage, and when the family theoretically included all\npersons bearing the same family name, that is, all who claimed kindred\nwith the same plant, animal, or object, whether the persons are really\nakin or not. These ideas and customs are not the ideas natural to men\norganised in the patriarchal family.\n\nThe second question now arises: Can we infer from survivals of\ntotemism among Aryans that these Aryans had once been organised on the\nfull totemistic principle, probably with polyandry, and certainly with\nfemale descent? Where totemism now exists in full force, there we find\nexogamy and derivation of the family name through women, the latter\ncustom indicating uncertainty of male parentage in the past. Are we to\nbelieve that the same institutions have existed wherever we find\nsurvivals of totemism? If this be granted, and if the supposed\nsurvivals of totemism among Aryans be accepted as genuine, then the\nAryans have distinctly come through a period of kinship reckoned\nthrough women, with all that such an institution implies.[223] For\nindications that the Aryans of Greece and India have passed through\nthe stage of totemism, the reader may be referred to Mr. M'Lennan's\n'Worship of Plants and Animals' (_Fortnightly Review_, 1869, 1870).\nThe evidence there adduced is not all of the same value, and the\npapers are only a hasty rough sketch based on the first testimonies\nthat came to hand. Probably the most important 'survival' of totemism\nin Greek legend is the body of stories about the amours of Zeus in\nanimal form. Various noble houses traced their origin to Zeus or\nApollo, who, as a bull, tortoise, serpent, swan, or ant, had seduced\nthe mother of the race. The mother of the Arcadians became a she-bear,\nlike the mother of the bear stock of the Iroquois. As we know plenty\nof races all over the world who (like Greek royal houses) trace their\ndescent from serpents, tortoises, swans, and so forth, it is a fair\nhypothesis that the ancestors of the Greeks once believed in the same\nfables. In later times the swan, serpent, ant, or tortoise was\nexplained as an _avatar_ of Zeus. The process by which an\nanthropomorphic god or hero succeeds to the exploits of animals, of\ntheriomorphic gods and heroes, is the most common in mythology, and is\nillustrated by actual practice in modern India. When the Brahmins\nconvert a pig-worshipping tribe of aboriginals, they tell their\nproselytes that the pig was an avatar of Vishnu. The same process is\nfound active where the Japanese have influenced the savage Ainos, and\npersuaded them that their bear- or dog-father was a manifestation of a\ndeity. We know from Plutarch (_Theseus_, vii. viii.) that one Carian\n~genos~, the Ioxidae, revered the asparagus because it was friendly to\ntheir ancestress, as a totem should be. A vaguer indication of\ntotemism may perhaps be detected in the ancient theriomorphic statues\nof Greek gods, as the Ram-Zeus and the Horse-headed Demeter, and in\nthe various animals and plants which were sacred to each god and\nrepresented as his companions.[224]\n\nThe hints of totemism among the ancient Irish are interesting. One\nhero, Conaire, was the son of a bird, and before his birth his father\n(the bird) told the woman (his mother) that the child must never eat\nthe flesh of fowls. 'Thy son shall be named Conaire, and that son\nshall not kill birds.'[225] The hero Cuchullain, being named after\nthe dog, might not eat the flesh of the dog, and came by his ruin\nafter transgressing this totemistic taboo. Races named after animals\nwere common in ancient Ireland. The red-deer and the wolves were\ntribes dwelling near Ossory, and Professor Rhys, from the frequency\nof dog names, inclines to believe in a dog totem in Erin. According\nto the ancient Irish 'Wonders of Eri,' in the _Book of Glendaloch_,\n'the descendants of the wolf are in Ossory,' and they could still\ntransform themselves into wolves.[226] As to our Anglo-Saxon\nancestors, there is little evidence beyond the fact that the names\n(in many cases patronymics) of the early settlements of Billings,\nArlings, and the rest, are undeniably derived from animals and\nplants. The manner in which those names are scattered locally is\nprecisely like what results in America, Africa, and Australia from\nthe totemistic organisation.[227] In Italy the ancient custom by\nwhich animals were the leaders of the _Ver sacrum_ or armed migration\nis well known. The Piceni had for their familiar animal or totem (if\nwe may call it so) a woodpecker; the Hirpini were like the\n'descendants of the wolf' in Ossory, and practised a wolf-dance in\nwhich they imitated the actions of the animal.\n\nSuch is a summary of the evidence which hints that Aryans may once\nhave been totemists, therefore savages, and therefore, again, had\nprobably been in a stage when women were scarce and each woman had\nmany husbands.\n\n(4) _Evidence from the Gens or ~genos~._--There is no more puzzling\ntopic in the history of the ancient world than the origin and nature\nof the community called by the Romans the _gens_, and by the Greeks\nthe ~genos~. To the present writer it seems that no existing community\nof men, neither totem kin, nor clan, nor house community, nor _gotra_,\nprecisely answers to the _gens_ or the ~genos~. Our information about\nthese forms of society is slight and confused. The most essential\nthing to notice for the moment is the fact that both in Greece and\nRome the ~genos~ and _gens_ were extremely ancient, so ancient that\nthe ~genos~ was decaying in Greece when history begins, while in Rome\nwe can distinctly see the rapid decadence and dissolution of the\n_gens_. In the laws of the Twelve Tables, the _gens_ is a powerful and\nrespected corporation. In the time of Cicero the nature of the _gens_\nis a matter but dimly understood. Tacitus begins to be confused about\nthe gentile nomenclature. In the Empire gentile law fades away. In\nGreece, especially at Athens, the early political reforms transferred\npower from the ~genos~ to a purely local organisation, the Deme. The\nGreek of historical times did not announce his ~genos~ in his name (as\nthe Romans always did), but gave his own name, that of his father, and\nthat of his deme. Thus we may infer that in Greek and Roman society\nthe ~genos~ and _gens_ were dying, not growing, organisations. In very\nearly times it is probable that foreign _gentes_ were adopted _en\nbloc_ into the Roman Commonwealth. Very probably, too, a great family,\non entering the Roman bond, may have assumed, by a fiction, the\ncharacter and name of a _gens_. But that Roman society in historical\ntimes, or that Greek society, could evolve a new _gens_ or ~genos~ in\na normal natural way, seems excessively improbable.\n\nKeeping in mind the antique and 'obsolescent' character of the _gens_\nand ~genos~, let us examine the theories of the origin of these\nassociations. The Romans themselves knew very little about the matter.\nCicero quotes the dictum of Scaevola the Pontifex, according to which\nthe _gens_ consisted of _all persons of the same gentile name_ who\nwere not in any way disqualified.[228] Thus, in America, or\nAustralia, or Africa, all persons bearing the same totem name belong\nto that totem kin. Festus defines members of a _gens_ as persons of\nthe same stock and same family name. Varro says (in illustration of\nthe relationships of words and cases), 'Ab AEmilio homines orti AEmilii\nsunt gentiles.' The two former definitions answer to the conception of\na totem kin, which is united by its family name and belief in identity\nof origin. Varro adds the element, in the Roman _gens_, of common\ndescent from one male ancestor. Such was the conception of the _gens_\nin historical times. It was in its way an association of kinsfolk,\nreal or supposed. According to the Laws of the Twelve Tables the\ngentiles inherited the property of an intestate man without agnates,\nand had the custody of lunatics in the same circumstances. The _gens_\nhad its own _sacellum_ or chapel, and its own _sacra_ or religious\nrites. The whole _gens_ occasionally went into mourning when one of\nits members was unfortunate. It would be interesting if it could be\nshown that the _sacra_ were usually examples of ancestor-worship, but\nthe faint indications on the subject scarcely permit us to assert\nthis.\n\nOn the whole, Sir Henry Maine strongly clings to the belief that the\n_gens_ commonly had 'a real core of agnatic consanguinity from the\nvery first.' But he justly recognises the principle of imitation,\nwhich induces men to copy any fashionable institution. Whatever the\nreal origin of the _gens_, many _gentes_ were probably copies based\non the fiction of common ancestry.\n\nOn Sir Henry Maine's system, then, the _gens_ rather proves the\nconstant existence of recognised male descents among the peoples where\nit exists.[229]\n\nThe opposite theory of the _gens_ is that to which Mr. M'Lennan\ninclined. 'The composition and organisation of Greek and Roman tribes\nand commonwealths cannot well be explained except on the hypothesis\nthat they resulted from the joint operation, in early times, of\nexogamy, and the system of kinship through females only.'[230] 'The\n_gens_,' he adds, 'was composed of all the persons in the tribe\nbearing the same name and accounted of the same stock. Were the\n_gentes_ really of different stocks, as their names would imply and as\nthe people believed? If so, how came clans of different stocks to be\nunited in the same tribe?... How came a variety of such groups, of\ndifferent stocks, to coalesce in a local tribe?' These questions, Mr.\nM'Lennan thought, could not be answered on the patriarchal hypothesis.\nHis own theory, or rather his theory as understood by the present\nwriter, may be stated thus. In the earliest times there were\nhomogeneous groups, which became totem kin. Let us say that, in a\ncertain district, there were groups called woodpeckers, wolves, bears,\nsuns, swine, each with its own little territory. These groups were\nexogamous, and derived the name through the mother. Thus, in course of\ntime, when sun men married a wolf girl, and her children were wolves,\nthere would be wolves in the territory of the suns, and thus each\nstock would be scattered through all the localities, just as we see in\nAustralia and America. Let us suppose that (as certainly is occurring\nin Australia and America) paternal descent comes to be recognised in\ncustom. This change will not surprise Sir Henry Maine, who admits that\na system of male may alter, under stress of circumstances, to a system\nof female descents. In course of time, and as knowledge and\ncommon-sense advance, the old superstition of descent from a\nwoodpecker, a bear, a wolf, the sun, or what not, becomes untenable. A\nhuman name is assumed by the group which had called itself the\nwoodpeckers or the wolves, or perhaps by a local tribe in which\nseveral of these stocks are included. Then a fictitious human ancestor\nis adopted, and perhaps even adored. Thus the wolves might call\nthemselves Claudii, from their chief's name, and, giving up belief in\ndescent from a wolf, might look back to a fancied ancestor named\nClaudius. The result of these changes will be that an exogamous totem\nkin, with female descent, has become a _gens_, with male kinship, and\nonly the faintest trace of exogamy. An example of somewhat similar\nprocesses must have occurred in the Highland clans after the\nintroduction of Christianity, when the chief's Christian name became\nthe patronymic of the people who claimed kinship with him and owned\nhis sway.\n\nAre there any traces at all of totemism in what we know of the Roman\n_gentes_? Certainly the traces are very slight; perhaps they are only\nvisible to the eye of the intrepid anthropologist. I give them for\nwhat they are worth, merely observing that they do tally, as far as\nthey go, with the totemistic theory. The reader interested in the\nsubject may consult the learned Streinnius's _De Gentibus Romanis_, p.\n104 (Aldus, Venice, 1591).\n\nAmong well-known savage totems none is more familiar than the sun. Men\nclaim descent from the sun, call themselves by his name, and wear his\neffigy as a badge.[231] Were there suns in Rome? The Aurelian _gens_\nis thus described on the authority of Festus Pompeius: 'The Aurelii\nwere of Sabine descent. The Aurelii were so named from the sun\n(_aurum_, _urere_, the burning thing), because a place was set apart\nfor them in which to pay adoration to the sun.' Here, at least, is an\nodd coincidence. Among other gentile names, the Fabii, Cornelii,\nPapirii, Pinarii, Cassii, are possibly connected with plants; while\nwild etymology may associate Porcii, Aquilii, and Valerii with swine\nand eagles. Pliny (_H. N._, xviii. 3) gives a fantastic explanation of\nthe vegetable names of Roman _gentes_. We must remember that vegetable\nnames are very common in American, Indian, African, and Australian\ntotem kin. Of sun names the Natchez and the Incas of Peru are familiar\nexamples. Turning from Rome to Greece, we find the ~genos~ less\nregarded and more decadent than the _gens_. Yet, according to Grote\n(iii. 54) the ~genos~ had--(1) _Sacra_, 'in honour of the same god,\nsupposed to be the primitive ancestor.' (2) A common burial-place. (3)\nCertain rights of succession to property. (4) Obligations of mutual\nhelp and defence. (5) Mutual rights and obligations to intermarry in\ncertain cases. (6) Occasionally possession of common property.\n\nTraces of the totem among the Greek ~gene~ are, naturally, few. Almost\nall the known ~gene~ bore patronymics derived from personal names. But\nit is not without significance that the Attic demes often adopted the\nnames of obsolescent ~gene~, and that deme names were, as Mr. Grote\nsays (iii. 63), often 'derived from the plants and shrubs which grew\nin their neighbourhood.' We have already seen that at least one\nancient ~genos~, the Ioxidae, revered the plant which, as the myth ran,\nbefriended their ancestress. One thing is certain, the totem names,\nand a common explanation of the totem names in Australia, correspond\nwith the names and Mr. Grote's explanation of the names of the Attic\ndemes. 'One origin of family names,' says Sir George Grey (ii. 228),\n'frequently ascribed by the natives, is that they were derived from\nsome vegetable or animal being common in the district which the family\ninhabited.' Some writers attempt to show that the Attic ~genos~ was\nonce exogamous and counted kin on the mother's side, by quoting the\ncustom which permitted a man to marry his half-sister, the child of\nhis father but not of his mother. They infer that this permission is a\nsurvival from the time when a man's _father's_ children were not\nreckoned as his kindred, and when kinship was counted through mothers.\nSir Henry Maine (p. 105) prefers M. Fustel de Coulanges' theory, that\nthe marriage of half-brothers and sisters on the father's side was\nintended to save the portion of the girl to the family estate. Proof\nof this may be adduced from examination of all the recorded cases of\nsuch marriages in Athens. But the reason thus suggested would have\nequally justified marriage between brothers and sisters on both sides,\nand this was reckoned incest. A well-known line in Aristophanes shows\nhow intense was Athenian feeling about the impiety of relations with a\nsister uterine.\n\nOn the whole, the evidence which we have adduced tends to establish\nsome links between the ancient ~genos~ and _gens_, and the totem\nkindreds of savages. The indications are not strong, but they all\npoint in one direction. Considering the high civilisation of Rome and\nGreece at the very dawn of history--considering the strong natural\nbent of these peoples toward refinement--it is almost remarkable that\neven the slight testimonies we have been considering should have\nsurvived.\n\n(5) On the evidence from myth and legend we propose to lay little\nstress. But, as legends were not invented by anthropologists to prove\na point, it is odd that the traditions of Athens, as preserved by\nVarro, speak of a time when names were derived from the mother, and\nwhen promiscuity prevailed. Marriage itself was instituted by Cecrops,\nthe serpent, just as the lizard, in Australia, is credited with this\nuseful invention.[232] Similar legends among non-Aryan races, Chinese\nand Egyptian, are very common.\n\n(6) There remains the evidence of actual fact and custom among Aryan\npeoples. The Lycians, according to Herodotus, 'have this peculiar\ncustom, _wherein they resemble no other men_, they derive their names\nfrom their mothers, and not from their fathers, and through mothers\nreckon their kin.' Status also was derived through the mothers.[233]\nThe old writer's opinion that the custom (so common in Australia,\nAmerica and Africa) was unique, is itself a proof of his good faith.\nBachofen (p. 390) remarks that several Lycian inscriptions give the\nnames of mothers only. Polybius attributes (assigning a fantastic\nreason) the same custom of counting kin through mothers to the\nLocrians.[234] The British and Irish custom of deriving descents\nthrough women is well known,[235] and a story is told to account for\nthe practice. The pedigrees of the British kings show that most did\nnot succeed to their fathers, and the various records of early Celtic\nmorals go to prove that no other system of kinship than the maternal\nwould have possessed any value, so uncertain was fatherhood. These are\nbut hints of the prevalence of institutions which survived among\nTeutonic races in the importance attached to the relationship of a\nman's sister's son. Though no longer his legal heir, the sister's son\nwas almost closer than any other kinsman.[236]\n\nWe have now summarised and indicated the nature of the evidence which,\non the whole, inclines us to the belief of Mr. M'Lennan rather than of\nSir Henry Maine. The point to which all the testimony adduced\nconverges, the explanation which most readily solves all the\ndifficulties, is the explanation of Mr. M'Lennan. The Aryan races\nhave very generally passed through the stage of scarcity of women,\npolyandry, absence of recognised male kinship, and recognition of\nkinship through women. What Sir Henry Maine admits as the exception,\nwe are inclined to regard as having, in a very remote past, been the\nrule. No one kind of evidence--neither traces of marriage by capture,\nof exogamy, of totemism, of tradition, of noted fact among Lycians and\nPicts and Irish--would alone suffice to guide our opinion in this\ndirection. But the cumulative force of the testimony strikes us as not\ninconsiderable, and it must be remembered that the testimony has not\nyet been assiduously collected.\n\nLet us end by showing how this discussion illustrates the method of\nFolklore. We have found anomalies among Aryans. We have seen the\n_gens_ an odd, decaying institution. We have seen Greek families claim\ndescent from various animals, said to be Zeus, or another god, in\ndisguise. We have found them tracing kinship and deriving names from\nthe mother. We have found stocks with animal and vegetable names. We\nhave found half-brothers and sisters marrying. We have noted\nprohibitions to marry any one of the same family name. All these\ninstitutions are odd, anomalous, decaying things among Aryans, and the\nmore civilised the Aryans the more they decay. All of them are living,\nactive things among savages, and, far from being anomalous, are in\nprecise harmony with savage notions of the world. Surely, then, where\nthey seem decaying and anomalous, as among Aryans, these customs and\nlaws are mouldering relics of ideas and practices natural and\ninevitable among savages.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[206] _Early Law and Custom._\n\n[207] _Studies in Ancient History_, p. 127.\n\n[208] _Descent of Man_, ii. 362.\n\n[209] _Early Law and Custom_, p. 210.\n\n[210] Here I would like to point out that Mr. M'Lennan's theory was\nnot so hard and fast as his manner (that of a very assured believer in\nhis own ideas) may lead some inquirers to suppose. Sir Henry Maine\nwrites, that both Mr. Morgan and Mr. M'Lennan 'seem to me to think\nthat human society went everywhere through the same series of changes,\nand Mr. M'Lennan, at any rate, expresses himself as if all those\nstages could be clearly discriminated from one another, and the close\nof one and the commencement of another announced with the distinctness\nof the clock-bell telling the end of the hour.' On the other hand, I\nremember Mr. M'Lennan's saying that, in his opinion, 'all manner of\narrangements probably went on simultaneously in different places.' In\n_Studies in Ancient History_, p. 127, he expressly guards against the\ntendency 'to assume that the progress of the various races of men from\nsavagery has been a uniform progress: that all the stages which any of\nthem has gone through have been passed in their order by all.' Still\nmore to the point is his remark on polyandry among the very early\nGreeks and other Aryans; 'it is quite consistent with my view that in\nall these quarters (Persia, Sparta, Troy, Lycia, Attica, Crete, etc.)\nmonandry, and even the _patria potestas_, may have prevailed at\npoints.'\n\n[211] _Early Law and Custom_, p. 212.\n\n[212] _Studies in Ancient History_, pp. 140-147.\n\n[213] _Totem_ is the name generally given by travellers and\ninterpreters to the family crests of the Red Indians. Cf. p. 105.\n\n[214] Plutarch, _Quaest. Rom._, vi. Cf. M'Lennan, _The Patriarchal\nTheory_, pp. 206-208.\n\n[215] Cf. Maine, _Early Law and Custom_, pp. 227, 228.\n\n[216] _Domestic Manners of the Chinese_, i. 99.\n\n[217] _Fortnightly Review_, June 1, 1877.\n\n[218] Cf. Sir John Lubbock, _Origin of Civilisation_, pp. 104, 125 _et\nseq._\n\n[219] We do not, however, make this presumption. Considering what sort\nof affair truly _primitive_ marriage must have been, there may have\nrisen a prejudice against it within the group. Any one acquainted with\nNew Caledonian and Arab marriage usages will understand this\nsuggestion.\n\n[220] _Kamilaroi and Kurnai_, p. 169. Natives call these objects their\nkin, 'of one flesh' with them.\n\n[221] _Studies_, p. 112.\n\n[222] From _The Patriarchal Theory_ (Preface, p. vii.) it appears that\nMr. M'Lennan gave up his hypothesis and ceased to have any view on the\norigin of totemism.\n\n[223] Some critics have understood me to maintain that traces of Aryan\ntotemism survive. I merely point out indications which appear (when\ntaken with other evidence) to point in that direction. What other\nequally plausible explanation is offered?\n\n[224] Cf. 'Apollo and the Mouse,' p. 118.\n\n[225] O'Curry, _Manners of Ancient Irish_, l. ccclxx., quoting Trin.\nColl. Dublin MS.\n\n[226] See also Elton's _Origins of English History_, pp. 299-310.\n\n[227] Kemble's _Saxons in England_, p. 258. _Politics of Aristotle_,\nBolland and Lang, p. 99.[A]\n\n[A] Mr. Grant Allen kindly supplied me some time ago with a list of\nanimal and vegetable names preserved in the titles of ancient English\nvillage settlements. Among them are: ash, birch, bear (as among the\nIroquois), oak, buck, fir, fern, sun, wolf, thorn, goat, horse, salmon\n(the trout is a totem in America), swan (familiar in Australia), and\nothers. It may be argued, as by Mr. Isaac Taylor, that such names, in\nEngland, merely described local characteristics, though, in Asia,\nIndia, Africa, Australia, Samoa, Egypt, similar names are derived from\ntotemism.\n\n[228] 'Gentiles sunt qui inter se eodem nomine sunt. Qui ab ingenii\noriundi sunt. Quorum majorum nemo servitutem servivit. Qui capite non\nsunt deminuti.'\n\n[229] The arguments on the other side in M'Lennan's _Patriarchal\nTheory_ seem overpowering.\n\n[230] _Studies in Ancient History_, p. 212.\n\n[231] _Fortnightly Review_, Oct., 1869: 'Archaeologia Americana,' ii.\n13.\n\n[232] Suidas, 3102.\n\n[233] Herod., i. 173. It is not agreed that the Lycians were Aryans,\nbut surely the Locrians were!\n\n[234] Cf. Bachofen, p. 309.\n\n[235] Compare the _Irish Nennius_, p. 127.\n\n[236] Tacitus, _Germania_, xx.\n\n\n\n\n_THE ART OF SAVAGES._[237]\n\n\n'Avoid Coleridge, he is _useless_,' says Mr. Ruskin. Why should the\npoetry of Coleridge be useful? The question may interest the critic,\nbut we are only concerned with Mr. Ruskin here, for one reason. His\ndisparagement of Coleridge as 'useless' is a survival of the belief\nthat art should be 'useful.' This is the savage's view of art. He\nimitates nature, in dance, song, or in plastic art, for a definite\npractical purpose. His dances are magical dances, his images are made\nfor a magical purpose, his songs are incantations. Thus the theory\nthat art is a disinterested expression of the imitative faculty is\nscarcely warranted by the little we know of art's beginnings. We shall\nadopt, provisionally, the hypothesis that the earliest art with which\nwe are acquainted is that of savages contemporary or extinct. Some\nphilosophers may tell us that all known savages are only degraded\ndescendants of early civilised men who have, unluckily and\ninexplicably, left no relics of their civilisation. But we shall argue\non the opposite theory, that the art of Australians, for example, is\nreally earlier in kind, more backward, nearer the rude beginnings of\nthings, than the art of people who have attained to some skill in\npottery, like the New Caledonians. These, again, are much more\nbackward, in a state really much earlier, than the old races of Mexico\nand Peru; while they, in turn, show but a few traces of advance\ntowards the art of Egypt; and the art of Egypt, at least after the\ntimes of the Ancient Empire, is scarcely advancing in the direction of\nthe flawless art of Greece. We shall be able to show how savage art,\nas of the Australians, develops into barbarous art, as of the New\nZealanders; while the arts of strange civilisations, like those of\nPeru and Mexico, advance one step further; and how, again, in the\nearly art of Greece, in the Greek art of ages prior to Pericles, there\nare remains of barbaric forms which are gradually softened into\nbeauty. But there are necessarily breaks and solutions of continuity\nin the path of progress.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 1.--An Australian Shield.]\n\nOne of the oldest problems has already risen before us in connection\nwith the question stated: Is art the gratification of the imitative\nfaculty? Now, among the lowest, the most untutored, the worst equipped\nsavages of contemporary races, art is rather decorative on the whole\nthan imitative. The patterns on Australian shields and clubs, the\nscars which they raise on their own flesh by way of tattooing, are\nvery rarely imitations of any objects in nature. The Australians, like\nthe Red Indians, like many African and some aboriginal Indian races,\nPeruvians, and others, distinguish their families by the names of\nvarious plants and animals, from which each family boasts its descent.\nThus you have a family called Kangaroos, descended, as they fancy,\nfrom the kangaroo; another from the cockatoo, another from the black\nsnake, and so forth. Now, in many quarters of the globe, this custom\nand this superstition, combined with the imitative faculty in man, has\nproduced a form of art representing the objects from which the\nfamilies claim descent. This art is a sort of rude heraldry--probably\nthe origin of heraldry. Thus, if a Red Indian (say a Delaware) is of\nthe family of the Turtle, he blazons a turtle on his shield or coat,\nprobably tattoos or paints his breast with a figure of a turtle, and\nalways has a turtle, _reversed_, designed on the pillar above his\ngrave when he dies, just as, in our mediaeval chronicles, the leopards\nof an English king are reversed on his scutcheon opposite the record\nof his death. But the Australians, to the best of my knowledge, though\nthey are much governed by belief in descent from animals, do not\nusually blazon their crest on their flesh, nor on the trees near the\nplace where the dead are buried. They have not arrived at this pitch\nof imitative art, though they have invented or inherited a kind of\nrunes which they notch on sticks, and in which they convey to each\nother secret messages. The natives of the Upper Darling, however, do\ncarve their family crests on their shields. In place of using\nimitative art, the Murri are said, I am not quite sure with what\ntruth, to indicate the distinction of families by arrangements of\npatterns, lines and dots, tattooed on the breast and arms, and carved\non the bark of trees near places of burial. In any case, the absence\nof the rude imitative art of heraldry among a race which possesses all\nthe social conditions that produce this art is a fact worth noticing,\nand itself proves that the native art of one of the most backward\nraces we know is not essentially imitative.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 2.]\n\nAny one who will look through a collection of Australian weapons and\nutensils will be brought to this conclusion. The shields and the clubs\nare elaborately worked, but almost always without any representation\nof plants, animals, or the human figure. As a rule the decorations\ntake the simple shape of the 'herring-bone' pattern, or such other\npatterns as can be produced without the aid of spirals, or curves, or\ncircles. There is a natural and necessary cause of this choice of\ndecoration. The Australians, working on hard wood, with tools made of\nflint, or broken glass, or sharp shell, cannot easily produce any\ncurved lines. Every one who, when a boy, carved his name on the bark\nof a tree, remembers the difficulty he had with S and G, while he got\non easily with letters like M and A, which consist of straight or\ninclined lines. The savage artist has the same difficulty with his\nrude tools in producing anything like satisfactory curves or\nspirals. We engrave above (Fig. 1) a shield on which an Australian has\nsucceeded, with obvious difficulty, in producing concentric ovals of\nirregular shape. It may be that the artist would have produced perfect\ncircles if he could. His failure is exactly like that of a youthful\ncarver of inscriptions coming to grief over his G's and S's. Here,\nhowever (Fig. 2), we have three shields which, like the ancient Celtic\npipkin (the tallest of the three figures in Fig. 3), show the earliest\nknown form of savage decorative art--the forms which survive under the\nnames of 'chevron' and 'herring-bone.' These can be scratched on clay\nwith the nails, or a sharp stick, and this primeval way of decorating\npottery made without the wheel survives, with other relics of savage\nart, in the western isles of Scotland. The Australian had not even\nlearned to make rude clay pipkins, but he decorated his shields as the\nold Celts and modern old Scotch women decorated their clay pots, with\nthe herring-bone arrangement of incised lines. In the matter of colour\nthe Australians prefer white clay and red ochre, which they rub into\nthe chinks in the woodwork of their shields. When they are determined\non an ambush, they paint themselves all over with white, justly\nconceiving that their sudden apparition in this guise will strike\nterror into the boldest hearts. But arrangements in black and white of\nthis sort scarcely deserve the name of even rudimentary art.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 3.--Savage Ornamentation.]\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 4.--An Australian Stele.]\n\nThe Australians sometimes introduce crude decorative attempts at\ndesigning the human figure, as in the pointed shield opposite (Fig. 2,\n_a_), which, with the other Australian designs, are from Mr. Brough\nSmyth's _Aborigines of Victoria_. But these ambitious efforts usually\nend in failure. Though the Australians chiefly confine themselves to\ndecorative art, there are numbers of wall-paintings, so to speak, in\nthe caves of the country which prove that they, like the Bushmen,\ncould design the human figure in action when they pleased. Their usual\npreference for the employment of patterns appears to me to be the\nresult of the nature of their materials. In modern art our mechanical\nadvantages and facilities are so great that we are always carrying the\nmethod and manner of one art over the frontier of another. Our poetry\naims at producing the effects of music; our prose at producing the\neffects of poetry. Our sculpture tries to vie with painting in the\nrepresentation of action, or with lace-making in the production of\nreticulated surfaces, and so forth. But the savage, in his art, has\nsense enough to confine himself to the sort of work for which his\nmaterials are fitted. Set him in the bush with no implements and\nmaterials but a bit of broken shell and a lump of hard wood, and he\nconfines himself to decorative scratches. Place the black in the large\ncave which Pundjel, the Australian Zeus, inhabited when on earth (as\nZeus inhabited the cave in Crete), and give the black plenty of red\nand white ochre and charcoal, and he will paint the human figure in\naction on the rocky walls. Later, we will return to the cave-paintings\nof the Australians and the Bushmen in South Africa. At present we must\ntrace purely decorative art a little further. But we must remember\nthat there was once a race apparently in much the same social\ncondition as the Australians, but far more advanced and ingenious in\nart. The earliest men of the European Continent, about whom we know\nmuch, the men whose bones and whose weapons are found beneath the\ngravel-drift, the men who were contemporary with the rhinoceros,\nmammoth and cave-bear, were not further advanced in material\ncivilisation than the Australians. They used weapons of bone, of\nunpolished stone, and probably of hard wood. But the remnants of their\nart, the scraps of mammoth or reindeer bone in our museums, prove that\nthey had a most spirited style of sketching from the life. In a\ncollection of drawings on bone (probably designed with a flint or a\nshell), drawings by palaeolithic man, in the British Museum, I have\nonly observed one purely decorative attempt. Even in this the\ndecoration resembles an effort to use the outlines of foliage for\nornamental purposes. In almost all the other cases the palaeolithic\nartist has not decorated his bits of bone in the usual savage manner,\nbut has treated his bone as an artist treats his sketch-book, and has\nscratched outlines of beasts and fishes with his sharp shell as an\nartist uses his point. These ancient bones, in short, are the\nsketch-books of European savages, whose untaught skill was far greater\nthan that of the Australians, or even of the Eskimo. When brought into\ncontact with Europeans, the Australian and Eskimo very quickly, even\nwithout regular teaching, learn to draw with some spirit and skill. In\nthe Australian stele, or grave-pillar, which we have engraved (Fig.\n4), the shapeless figures below the men and animals are the dead, and\nthe _boilyas_ or ghosts. Observe the patterns in the interstices. The\nartist had lived with Europeans. In their original conditions,\nhowever, the Australians have not attained to such free, artist-like,\nand unhampered use of their rude materials as the mysterious European\nartists who drew the mammoth that walked abroad amongst them.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 5.--_a_, A Maori Design; _b_, Tattoo on a Maori's\nFace.]\n\nWe have engraved one solitary Australian attempt at drawing curved\nlines. The New Zealanders, a race far more highly endowed, and, when\nEuropeans arrived amongst them, already far more civilised than the\nAustralians, had, like the Australians, no metal implements. But their\nstone weapons were harder and keener, and with these they engraved the\nvarious spirals and coils on hard wood, of which we give examples\nhere. It is sometimes said that New Zealand culture and art have\nfiltered from some Asiatic source, and that in the coils and spirals\ndesigned, as in our engravings, on the face of the Maori chief, or on\nhis wooden furniture, there may be found debased Asiatic\ninfluences.[238] This is one of the questions which we can hardly deal\nwith here. Perhaps its solution requires more of knowledge,\nanthropological and linguistic, than is at present within the reach of\nany student. Assuredly the races of the earth have wandered far, and\nhave been wonderfully intermixed, and have left the traces of their\npassage here and there on sculptured stones, and in the keeping of the\nghosts that haunt ancient grave-steads. But when two pieces of\nartistic work, one civilised, one savage, resemble each other, it is\nalways dangerous to suppose that the resemblance bears witness to\nrelationship or contact between the races, or to influences imported\nby one from the other. New Zealand work may be Asiatic in origin, and\ndebased by the effect of centuries of lower civilisation and ruder\nimplements. Or Asiatic ornament may be a form of art improved out of\nruder forms, like those to which the New Zealanders have already\nattained. One is sometimes almost tempted to regard the favourite\nMaori spiral as an imitation of the form, not unlike that of a\nbishop's crozier at the top, taken by the great native ferns. Examples\nof resemblance, to be accounted for by the development of a crude\nearly idea, may be traced most easily in the early pottery of Greece.\nNo one says that the Greeks borrowed from the civilised people of\nAmerica. Only a few enthusiasts say that the civilised peoples of\nAmerica, especially the Peruvians, are Aryan by race. Yet the remains\nof Peruvian palaces are often by no means dissimilar in style from the\n'Pelasgic' and 'Cyclopean' buildings of gigantic stones which remain\non such ancient Hellenic sites as Argos and Mycenae. The probability is\nthat men living in similar social conditions, and using similar\nimplements, have unconsciously and unintentionally arrived at like\nresults.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 6.--From a Maori's Face.]\n\nFew people who are interested in the question can afford to visit Peru\nand Mycenae and study the architecture for themselves. But any one who\nis interested in the strange identity of the human mind everywhere,\nand in the necessary forms of early art, can go to the British Museum\nand examine the American and early Greek pottery. Compare the Greek\nkey pattern and the wave pattern on Greek and Mexican vases, and\ncompare the bird faces, or human faces very like those of birds, with\nthe similar faces on the clay pots which Dr. Schliemann dug up at\nTroy. The latter are engraved in his book on Troy. Compare the\nso-called 'cuttle-fish' from a Peruvian jar with the same figure on\nthe early Greek vases, most of which are to be found in the last of\nthe classical vase-rooms upstairs. Once more, compare the little clay\n'whorls' of the Mexican and Peruvian room with those which Dr.\nSchliemann found so numerous at Hissarlik. The conviction becomes\nirresistible that all these objects, in shape, in purpose, in\ncharacter of decoration, are the same, because the mind and the\nmaterials of men, in their early stages of civilisation especially,\nare the same everywhere. You might introduce old Greek bits of\nclay-work, figures or vases, into a Peruvian collection, or might\nfoist Mexican objects among the clay treasures of Hissarlik, and the\nwisest archaeologist would be deceived. The Greek fret pattern\nespecially seems to be one of the earliest that men learnt to draw.\nThe _svastika_, as it is called, the cross with lines at right angles\nto each limb, is found everywhere--in India, Greece, Scotland,\nPeru--as a natural bit of ornament. The allegorising fancy of the\nIndians gave it a mystic meaning, and the learned have built I know\nnot what worlds of religious theories on this 'pre-Christian cross,'\nwhich is probably a piece of hasty decorative work, with no original\nmystic meaning at all.[239] Ornaments of this sort were transferred\nfrom wood or bone to clay, almost as soon as people learned that early\nart, the potter's, to which the Australians have not attained, though\nit was familiar to the not distant people of New Caledonia. The style\nof spirals and curves, again, once acquired (as it was by the New\nZealanders), became the favourite of some races, especially of the\nCeltic. Any one who will study either the ornaments of Mycenae, or\nthose of any old Scotch or Irish collection, will readily recognise in\nthat art the development of a system of ornament like that of the\nMaoris. Classical Greece, on the other hand, followed more in the\ntrack of the ancient system of straight and slanted lines, and we do\nnot find in the later Greek art that love of interlacing coils and\nspirals which is so remarkable among the Celts, and which is very\nmanifest in the ornaments of the Mycenaean hoards--that is, perhaps, of\nthe ancient Greek heroic age. The causes of these differences in the\ndevelopment of ornament, the causes that made Celtic genius follow one\ntrack, and pursue to its aesthetic limits one early _motif_, while\nclassical art went on a severer line, it is, perhaps, impossible at\npresent to ascertain. But it is plain enough that later art has done\nlittle more than develop ideas of ornament already familiar to\nuntutored races.\n\nIt has been shown that the art which aims at decoration is better\nadapted to both the purposes and materials of savages than the art\nwhich aims at representation. As a rule, the materials of the lower\nsavages are their own bodies (which they naturally desire to make\nbeautiful for ever by tattooing), and the hard substances of which\nthey fashion their tools and weapons. These hard substances, when\nworked on with cutting instruments of stone or shell, are most easily\nadorned with straight cut lines, and spirals are therefore found to\nbe, on the whole, a comparatively late form of ornament.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 7.--Bushman Dog.]\n\nWe have now to discuss the efforts of the savage to represent. Here,\nagain, we have to consider the purpose which animates him, and the\nmaterials which are at his service. His pictures have a practical\npurpose, and do not spring from what we are apt, perhaps too hastily,\nto consider the innate love of imitation for its own sake. In modern\nart, in modern times, no doubt the desire to imitate nature, by\npainting or sculpture, has become almost an innate impulse, an in-born\ninstinct. But there must be some 'reason why' for this; and it does\nnot seem at all unlikely that we inherit the love, the disinterested\nlove, of imitative art from very remote ancestors, whose habits of\nimitation had a direct, interested and practical purpose. The member\nof Parliament who mimics the crowing of a cock during debate, or the\nstreet boy who beguiles his leisure by barking like a dog, has a\ndisinterested pleasure in the exercise of his skill; but advanced\nthinkers seem pretty well agreed that the first men who imitated the\nvoices of dogs, and cocks, and other animals, did not do so merely for\nfun, but with the practical purpose of indicating to their companions\nthe approach of these creatures. Such were the rude beginnings of\nhuman language; and whether that theory be correct or not, there are\ncertainly practical reasons which impel the savage to attempt\nimitative art. I doubt if there are many savage races which do not use\nrepresentative art for the purposes of writing--that is, to\ncommunicate information to persons whom they cannot reach by the\nvoice, and to assist the memory, which, in a savage, is perhaps not\nvery strong. To take examples. A savage man meets a savage maid. She\ndoes not speak his language, nor he hers. How are they to know\nwhether, according to the marriage laws of their race, they are lawful\nmates for each other? This important question is settled by an\ninspection of their tattooed marks. If a Thlinkeet man of the Swan\nstock meets an Iroquois maid of the Swan stock they cannot speak to\neach other, and the 'gesture-language' is cumbrous. But if both are\ntattooed with the swan, then the man knows that this daughter of the\nswan is not for him. He could no more marry her than Helen of Troy\ncould have married Castor, the tamer of horses. Both are children of\nthe Swan, as were Helen and Castor, and must regard each other as\nbrother and sister. The case of the Thlinkeet man and the Iroquois\nmaid is extremely unlikely to occur; but I give it as an example of\nthe practical use, among savages, of representative art.\n\nAmong the uses of art for conveying intelligence we notice that even\nthe Australians have what the Greeks would have called the ~skytale~,\na staff on which inscriptions, legible to the Aborigines, are\nengraven. I believe, however, that the Australian ~skytale~ is not\nusually marked with picture-writing but with notches--even more\ndifficult to decipher. As an example of Red Indian picture-writing we\npublish a scroll from Kohl's book on the natives of North America.\nThis rude work of art, though the reader may think little of it, is\nreally a document as important in its way as the Chaldaean clay tablets\ninscribed with the record of the Deluge. The coarsely-drawn figures\nrecall, to the artist's mind, much of the myth of Manabozho, the\nPrometheus and the Deucalion, the Cain and the Noah of the dwellers by\nthe great lake. Manabozho was a great chief, who had two wives that\nquarrelled. The two stumpy half-figures (4) represent the wives; the\nmound between them is the displeasure of Manabozho. Further on (5) you\nsee him caught up between two trees--an unpleasant fix, from which the\nwolves and squirrels refused to extricate him. The kind of pyramid\nwith a figure at top (8) is a mountain, on which, when the flood came,\nManabozho placed his grandmother to be out of the water's way. The\nsomewhat similar object is Manabozho himself, on the top of his\nmountain. The animals you next behold (10) were sent out by Manabozho\nto ascertain how the deluge was faring, and to carry messages to his\ngrandmother. This scroll was drawn, probably on birch bark, by a Red\nMan of literary attainments, who gave it to Kohl (in its lower\nright-hand corner (11) he has pictured the event), that he might never\nforget the story of the Manabozhian deluge. The Red Indians have\nalways, as far as European knowledge goes, been in the habit of using\nthis picture-writing for the purpose of retaining their legends,\npoems, and incantations. It is unnecessary to say that the\npicture-writing of Mexico and the hieroglyphics of ancient Egypt are\nderived from the same savage processes. I must observe that the hasty\nindications of the figure used in picture-writing are by no means to\nbe regarded as measures of the Red Men's skill in art. They can draw\nmuch better than the artist who recorded the Manabozhian legend, when\nthey please.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 8.--Red Indian Picture-writing: the Legend of\nManabozho.]\n\nIn addition to picture-writing, Religion has fostered savage\nrepresentative art. If a man worships a lizard or a bear, he finds it\nconvenient to have an amulet or idol representing a bear or a lizard.\nIf one adores a lizard or a bear, one is likely to think that prayer\nand acts of worship addressed to an image of the animal will please\nthe animal himself, and make him propitious. Thus the art of making\nlittle portable figures of various worshipful beings is fostered, and\nthe craft of working in wood or ivory is born. As a rule, the savage\nis satisfied with excessively rude representations of his gods.\nObjects of this kind--rude hewn blocks of stone and wood--were the\nmost sacred effigies of the gods in Greece, and were kept in the\ndimmest recesses of the temple. No Demeter wrought by the craft of\nPhidias would have appeared so holy to the Phigalians as the strange\nold figure of the goddess with the head of a mare. The earliest Greek\nsacred sculptures that remain are scarcely, if at all, more advanced\nin art than the idols of the naked Admiralty Islanders. But this is\nanticipating; in the meantime it may be said that among the sources of\nsavage representative art are the need of something like writing, and\nideas suggested by nascent religion.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 9.--Bushman Wall-painting.]\n\nThe singular war-picture (Fig. 9) from a cave in South Africa, which\nwe copy from the _Cape Monthly Magazine_, probably represents a\nmagical ceremony. Bushmen are tempting a great water animal--a\nrhinoceros, or something of that sort--to run across the land, for the\npurpose of producing rain. The connection of ideas is scarcely\napparent to civilised minds, but it is not more indistinct than the\nconnection between carrying a bit of the rope with which a man has\nbeen hanged and success at cards--a common French superstition. The\nBushman cave-pictures, like those of Australia, are painted in black,\nred, and white. Savages, like the Assyrians and the early Greeks, and\nlike children, draw animals much better than the human figure. The\nBushman dog in our little engraving (Fig. 7) is all alive--almost as\nfull of life as the dog which accompanies the centaur Chiron, in that\nbeautiful vase in the British Museum which represents the fostering of\nAchilles. The Bushman wall-paintings, like those of Australia, seem\nto prove that savage art is capable of considerable freedom, when\nsupplied with fitting materials. Men seem to draw better when they\nhave pigments and a flat surface of rock to work upon, than when they\nare scratching on hard wood with a sharp edge of a broken shell.\nThough the thing has little to do with art, it may be worth\nmentioning, as a matter of curiosity, that the labyrinthine Australian\ncaves are decorated, here and there, with the mark of a red hand. The\nsame mysterious, or at least unexplained, red hand is impressed on the\nwalls of the ruined palaces and temples of Yucatan--the work of a\nvanished people.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 10.--Palaeolithic Art.]\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 11.--Red Indian Art: the Thunder-bird.]\n\nThere is one singular fact in the history of savage art which reminds\nus that savages, like civilised men, have various degrees of culture\nand various artistic capacities. The oldest inhabitants of Europe who\nhave left any traces of their lives and handiwork must have been\nsavages. Their tools and weapons were not even formed of polished\nstone, but of rough-hewn flint. The people who used tools of this sort\nmust necessarily have enjoyed but a scanty mechanical equipment, and\nthe life they lived in caves from which they had to drive the\ncave-bear, and among snows where they stalked the reindeer and the\nmammoth, must have been very rough. These earliest known Europeans,\n'palaeolithic men,' as they are called, from their use of the ancient\nunpolished stone weapons, appear to have inhabited the countries now\nknown as France and England, before the great Age of Ice. This makes\ntheir date one of incalculable antiquity; they are removed from us by\na 'dark backward and abysm of time.' The whole Age of Ice, the\ndateless period of the polishers of stone weapons, the arrival of men\nusing weapons of bronze, the time which sufficed to change the climate\nand fauna and flora of Western Europe, lie between us and palaeolithic\nman. Yet in him we must recognise a skill more akin to the spirit of\nmodern art than is found in any other savage race. Palaeolithic man,\nlike other savages, decorated his weapons; but, as I have already\nsaid, he did not usually decorate them in the common savage manner\nwith ornamental patterns. He scratched on bits of bone spirited\nrepresentations of all the animals whose remains are found mixed with\nhis own. He designed the large-headed horse of that period, and\nscience inclines to believe that he drew the breed correctly. His\nsketches of the mammoth, the reindeer, the bear, and of many fishes,\nmay be seen in the British Museum, or engraved in such works as\nProfessor Boyd Dawkins's _Early Man in Britain_. The object from which\nour next illustration (Fig. 12) was engraved represents a deer, and\nwas a knife-handle. Eyes at all trained in art can readily observe the\nwonderful spirit and freedom of these ancient sketches. They are the\nrapid characteristic work of true artists who know instinctively what\nto select and what to sacrifice.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 12.--Palaeolithic Art: a Knife-handle.]\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 13.--Eskimo Drawing: a Reindeer Hunt.]\n\nSome learned men, Mr. Boyd Dawkins among them, believe that the\nEskimo, that stunted hunting and fishing race of the Western Arctic\ncircle, are descendants of the palaeolithic sketchers, and retain their\nartistic qualities. Other inquirers, with Mr. Geikie and Dr. Wilson,\ndo not believe in this pedigree of the Eskimo. I speak not with\nauthority, but the submission of ignorance, and as one who has no\nright to an opinion about these deep matters of geology and ethnology.\nBut to me, Mr. Geikie's arguments appear distinctly the more\nconvincing, and I cannot think it demonstrated that the Eskimo are\ndescended from our old palaeolithic artists. But if Mr. Boyd Dawkins is\nright, if the Eskimo derive their lineage from the artists of the\nDordogne, then the Eskimo are sadly degenerated. In Mr. Dawkins's\n_Early Man_ is an Eskimo drawing of a reindeer hunt, and a palaeolithic\nsketch of a reindeer; these (by permission of the author and Messrs.\nMacmillan) we reproduce. Look at the vigour and life of the ancient\ndrawing--the feathering hair on the deer's breast, his head, his\nhorns, the very grasses at his feet, are touched with the graver of a\ntrue artist (Fig. 14). The design is like a hasty memorandum of\nLeech's. Then compare the stiff formality of the modern Eskimo drawing\n(Fig. 13). It is rather like a record, a piece of picture-writing,\nthan a free sketch, a rapid representation of what is most\ncharacteristic in nature. Clearly, if the Eskimo come from palaeolithic\nman, they are a degenerate race as far as art is concerned. Yet, as\nmay be seen in Dr. Rink's books, the Eskimo show considerable skill\nwhen they have become acquainted with European methods and models, and\nthey have at any rate a greater natural gift for design than the Red\nIndians, of whose sacred art the Thunder-bird brooding over page 298\nis a fair example. The Red Men believe in big birds which produce\nthunder. Quahteaht, the Adam of Vancouver's Island, married one, and\nthis (Fig. 11) is she.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 14.--Palaeolithic Sketch: a Reindeer.]\n\nWe have tried to show how savage decorative art supplied the first\nideas of patterns which were developed in various ways by the\ndecorative art of advancing civilisation. The same progress might be\ndetected in representative art. Books, like the guide-book to ancient\nGreece which Pausanias wrote before the glory had quite departed,\nprove that the Greek temples were museums in which the development of\nart might be clearly traced. Furthest back in the series of images of\ngods came things like that large stone which was given to Cronus when\nhe wished to swallow his infant child Zeus, and which he afterwards\nvomited up with his living progeny. This fetich-stone was preserved at\nDelphi. Next came wild bulks of beast-headed gods, like the\nhorse-headed Demeter of Phigalia, and it seems possible enough that\nthere was an Artemis with the head of a she-bear. Gradually the\nbestial characteristics dropped, and there appeared such rude\nanthropomorphic images of Apollo--more like South Sea idols than the\narcher prince--as are now preserved in Athens. Next we have the stage\nof semi-savage realism, which is represented by the metopes of Selinus\nin Sicily, now in the British Museum, and by not a few gems and pieces\nof gold work. Greek temples have fallen, and the statues of the gods\nexist only in scattered fragments. But in the representative\ncollection of casts belonging to the Cambridge Archaeological Museum,\none may trace the career of Greek art backwards from Phidias to the\nrude idol.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 15.--Archaic Greek Gems.]\n\n'Savage realism' is the result of a desire to represent an object as\nit is known to be, and not as it appears. Thus Catlin, among the Red\nIndians, found that the people refused to be drawn in profile. They\nknew they had two eyes, and in profile they seemed only to have one.\nLook at the Selinus marbles, and you will observe that figures, of\nwhich the body is seen in profile, have the full face turned to the\nspectator. Again, the savage knows that an animal has two sides; both,\nhe thinks, should be represented, but he cannot foreshorten, and he\nfinds the profile view easiest to draw. To satisfy his need of realism\nhe draws a beast's head full-face, and gives to the one head two\nbodies drawn in profile. Examples of this are frequent in very archaic\nGreek gems and gold work, and Mr. A. S. Murray suggests (as I\nunderstand him) that the attitude of the two famous lions, which\nguarded vainly Agamemnon's gate at Mycenae, is derived from the archaic\ndouble-bodied and single-headed beast of savage realism. Very good\nexamples of these oddities may be found in the _Journal of the\nHellenic Society_, 1881, pl. xv. Here are double-bodied and\nsingle-headed birds, monsters, and sphinxes. We engrave (Fig. 15)\nthree Greek gems from the islands as examples of savagery in early\nGreek art. In the oblong gem the archers are rather below the Red\nIndian standard of design. The hunter figured in the first gem is\nalmost up to the Bushman mark. In his dress ethnologists will\nrecognise an arrangement now common among the natives of New\nCaledonia. In the third gem the woman between two swans may be Leda,\nor she may represent Leto in Delos. Observe the amazing rudeness of\nthe design, and note the modern waist and crinoline. The artists who\nengraved these gems on hard stone had, of necessity, much better tools\nthan any savages possess, but their art was truly savage. To discover\nhow Greek art climbed in a couple of centuries from this coarse and\nchildish work to the grace of the AEgina marbles, and thence to the\nabsolute freedom and perfect unapproachable beauty of the work of\nPhidias, is one of the most singular problems in the history of art.\nGreece learned something, no doubt, from her early knowledge of the\narts the priests of Assyria and Egypt had elaborated in the valleys of\nthe Euphrates and the Nile. That might account for a swift progress\nfrom savage to formal and hieratic art; but whence sprang the\ninspiration which led her so swiftly on to art that is perfectly free,\nnatural, and god-like? It is a mystery of race, and of a divine gift.\n'The heavenly gods have given it to mortals.'\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[237] The illustrations in this article are for the most part copied,\nby permission of Messrs. Cassell & Co., from the _Magazine of Art_, in\nwhich the Essay appeared.\n\n[238] Part of the pattern (Fig. 5, _b_) recurs on the New Zealand\nBull-roarer, engraved in the Essay on the Bull-roarer.\n\n[239] See Schliemann's _Troja_, wherein is much learning and fancy\nabout the Aryan Svastika.\n\n\n\n\nINDEX.\n\n\n    Accadia, 62, 137, 151, 154\n\n    Achbor, 115\n\n    Acosta, 19\n\n    Adityas, 135\n\n    AEetes, 95\n\n    AElian, 109\n\n    AEschines, 39\n\n    Africa, 149\n\n    -- customs of women in, 72\n\n    -- divining rod in, 184-186\n\n    Aleutians, 74\n\n    Amazon, Indians of, 131\n\n    Ancestor worship among Hottentots and elsewhere, 197-211\n\n    Ancestors in stars, 129, 130\n\n    Animal bride, 76\n\n    -- deities, 103-120\n\n    -- worship, 118\n\n    Animals--\n      bear in religion, 176\n      descent claimed from, 104, 128\n      in stars, 121-142\n      sacred, 103-120\n      sun regarded as a beast, 133\n\n    Apollo and the mouse, 103-120\n\n    Apollodorus, 49\n\n    Apollonius Rhodius, 95\n\n    Apsaras, 65\n\n    Apsyrtos, 95\n\n    Apuleius, 64, 75\n\n    Arcadians, 128\n\n    Ares, 126\n\n    Argives, 110\n\n    Aristophanes, 133\n\n    Arktos, 141\n\n    Arnobius, 39\n\n    Art, early Greek, 303\n\n    -- gods in, 118\n\n    Art of Ojibways, 293\n\n    -- of savages, 276-304\n\n    -- Palaeolithic, 297\n\n    Artemis Orthia, 33\n\n    Aryan myths parallel with savage, 83, 96, 97, 103-120, 141\n\n    -- nuptial etiquette, 76\n\n    -- race, 117\n\n    Aryans and savages, 134-135\n\n    -- sensitive to 'loud' colours, 69\n\n    Ashanti, 24\n\n    Assyria, army of, destroyed, 112\n\n    Assyrian etymologies, 28\n\n    Astley, 72\n\n    Atharva Veda, 216, 217\n\n    Athens, owl of, 110\n\n    Aurelii, 104\n\n    Australia, 72\n\n    -- arts of, 283\n\n    -- divination in, 170\n\n    -- Herbert Spencer on, 125\n\n    -- moon myth, 54\n\n    -- native stratagem, 41\n\n    -- religion of, 231\n\n    -- swallowing myth, 54\n\n    Aymar, Jacques, 191-195\n\n\n    Baal, 62\n\n    -- Hamon, 61\n\n    Ballad of 'Bonny Hind,' 175\n\n    Ballads, 156-179\n\n    Barbadoes, 20\n\n    Bear among stars, 121\n\n    -- Callisto changed into, 128\n\n    -- in Finnish and other religions, 176\n\n    -- Max Mueller, Mr., on Great, 139\n\n    -- Totem of Iroquois, 110\n\n    -- tribes, 128\n\n    Beaver, myth of, 79-81\n\n    Bergaigne, 241\n\n    Bernier (Abbe), 197\n\n    Berosos, 60\n\n    Bheki, 77-80\n\n    Bible, 183\n\n    Bleek, 54, 131\n\n    Bongoes, 150\n\n    Boyd, Dawkins, 299\n\n    Brahmana Aitareya, 134\n\n    -- Satapatha, 134\n\n    Brahmanas, 69\n\n    Brazil, mysteries in, 43\n\n    Brown, Mr. Robert, 60\n\n    -- on Moly, 151-153\n\n    -- on star myths, 137\n\n    Buddhist story, 132\n\n    Bull-roarer, 29-44\n\n    Bushmen, 41, 53, 147\n\n    -- art of, 295\n\n    -- their star myths, 122, 124, 131\n\n    -- swallowing myth of, 53\n\n\n    Callaway, 84\n\n    Callisto, 132\n\n    Campbell, J. F., 93\n\n    Cannibals, 88\n\n    Cappadocia, 152\n\n    Castor and Pollux, in Australia, 128\n\n    Castren, 78\n\n    Catlin, 40\n\n    Cat, recognised as the moon, 117\n\n    Celts, art of, 289\n\n    _Chanson de Geste_, 161\n\n    Cheparas, 34\n\n    Chevreuil on divining rod, 188\n\n    China, _planchette_ in, 187\n\n    Circe, 147, 154\n\n    Clemens of Alexandria, 39\n\n    Coins, 110\n\n    Combs in Myths, 92, 98\n\n    'Comparative Mythology,' 58\n\n    Congo, mysteries on, 40\n\n    Costigan, Captain, 41\n\n    Crests, 109, 110\n\n    Cronus, myth of, 45-63\n\n    -- sickle of, 61\n\n    Crow, 126\n\n    Culture-Hero, 55\n\n    'Cupid and Psyche,' 64-86\n\n    Curtius, 3\n\n    Cushing, 37\n\n    Customs, savage Greek of expiation, 96\n\n    Customs of women, 71, 73\n\n    -- of savages, 72\n\n    -- among Yorubas, 73\n\n    -- in Australia, 72\n\n    -- Aleutian, 74\n\n    -- Bulgarian, 73\n\n    -- Breton, 75\n\n    -- Carib, 73\n\n    -- Carian, 74\n\n    -- Circassian, 73\n\n    -- Futa, 72\n\n    -- Fijian, 73, 74\n\n    -- Iroquois, 73\n\n    -- Kaffir, 74\n\n    -- Milesian, 74\n\n    -- in Naz, 75\n\n    -- Spartan, 73\n\n    -- Timbuctoo, 72\n\n    -- Welsh, 74\n\n    -- Zulu, 74\n\n\n    Dacotah, 117\n\n    Dalton, 81\n\n    Dancing, Lucian on, 41\n\n    Dawn, 203, 210\n\n    -- myth, 56\n\n    -- Urvasi recognised as, 68\n\n    Dead, the home of the, 171\n\n    -- worship of, 197-211, 239\n\n    De Brosses, 214-216, 224, 227\n\n    De Cara, 3\n\n    De Gubernatis, 117, 148\n\n    Delphi, fetich-stone of, 52\n\n    Deluge myth, 34\n\n    Demeter, 19\n\n    -- and the ram, 6\n\n    Demosthenes, 39, 40\n\n    Devas, 234\n\n    'Dionysiak Myth,' 60\n\n    Divination in Australia, 170\n\n    Divining rod, 180-196\n\n    Dog-star, 154\n\n    Dozon, 73\n\n    Dumuzi, 137\n\n\n    Edomites, 115\n\n    Egypt, 27, 113\n\n    -- cats sacred in, 113\n\n    -- mouse myth in, 111\n\n    -- rats sacred in, 113\n\n    Emerald, worship of, 105\n\n    Eos, 69\n\n    Epic, Greek, its origin, 161\n\n    -- of Finns, 156-179\n\n    Eratosthenes, 125\n\n    Eskimo, 130\n\n    -- art of, 285\n\n    -- moon myths, 132\n\n    Euhemerism, 199\n\n    Euhemeros, 197, 198\n\n    Eustathius, 103\n\n    Euthyphro, 46, 47\n\n    _Exogamy_, 24, 102, 245-275\n\n    -- in Finland, 164\n\n    Ezekiel, 115\n\n\n    Fairy-bride, 82\n\n    Family, the history of, 245-275\n\n    -- gods, 119\n\n    Farrer, 82\n\n    Fauriel, 178\n\n    Fetich-stone of Delphi, 52\n\n    Fetich-stones, 224\n\n    Fetichism, 212-242\n\n    Finns, poetry of, 156-179\n\n    Folklore, 6\n\n    -- method of, 10-28\n\n    -- of plants, 143-155\n\n    Food of dead men, 171\n\n    -- tabooed, 115, 119\n\n    Frog, myths of, 77, 80\n\n    Frog, descent claimed from, 104\n\n    Futa, 72\n\n\n    Gallinomeros, 133\n\n    Gandharvas, 66, 67\n\n    Gaunab, 205-211\n\n    Garcilasso de la Vega, 103-107\n\n    _Gens_ (_see_ 'Family')\n\n    ~Genos~ (_see_ 'Family')\n\n    'Gentile system,' 236\n\n    Gervase (of Tilbury), 76\n\n    Ghosts, 143, 233\n\n    -- (ancestral), 199\n\n    Giant, 90-92\n\n    Giordano Bruno, 139\n\n    Glacial age, 298\n\n    Gods, family, 119\n\n    -- horned, 60\n\n    -- in art, 118\n\n    -- in bestial form, 134\n\n    -- in Samoa, 119\n\n    -- lame, 206\n\n    -- of Greece, 27\n\n    -- of Hottentots, 197-211\n\n    -- Vedic, 234\n\n    -- Vedic and Brahmanic, 27\n\n    Greece, fetich-stones in, 224\n\n    Greeks, their star myths, 136\n\n    Grimm, 56, 147\n\n    Grohmann, 116, 117\n\n    Guiana swallowing myth, 55\n\n\n    Hades, 65\n\n    Hahn, 149, 202-211\n\n    Halevy, 155\n\n    Hamelin, Piper of, 114\n\n    Hare and moon, 132\n\n    -- in Zulu myths, 168\n\n    Harpocration, 40\n\n    Hartung, 61\n\n    Harvest home, superstitions of, 18\n\n    Heaven and earth, 45\n\n    -- -- Indian myth of, 50\n\n    Heitsi Eibib, 209\n\n    Hephaestus, 111, 112\n\n    Herodotus, 41, 111\n\n    Hesiod, 53, 94, 128\n\n    Hittites, 153\n\n    Homer, 69, 103, 122\n\n    Horned gods, 60\n\n    Horus, 113\n\n    Hottentots, 197-211\n\n    -- Herb-lore of, 143-155\n\n    Howitt and Fison, 34\n\n    _Huacas_, 105\n\n    Human sacrifice, 61\n\n\n    Ice, Age of, 298\n\n    Il, 60\n\n    Iliad, 103\n\n    Inca, 103\n\n    Indra, 134\n\n    -- a 'shape-shifter,' 126\n\n    Infinite, the, 206\n\n    Initiation (_see_ 'Mysteries')\n\n    Ioxidae, 119\n\n    Iron, a tabooed metal, 64\n\n    -- the birth of, 169\n\n    -- in Vedic India, 217\n\n    Iroquois, 36, 110\n\n    Isaiah, 115\n\n    Isis, 130\n\n    Israel, Totems of, 115\n\n\n    Jacob, _Verge de_, 187\n\n    Japanese, 93\n\n    Jason, 5\n\n    -- the myth of, 87-102\n\n    -- the Red Indian parallel, 99\n\n    -- Samoan parallel, 97\n\n    Job Ben Solomon never saw his wife, 72\n\n    Jonah, 55\n\n    Jurupari pipes, 43\n\n\n    Kaffir swallowing myth, 54\n\n    Kaffirs, 38, 218\n\n    Kalevala, 100, 156-179\n\n    Kamilaroi, 34\n\n    _Karnos_, _Karnu_, _Keren_, 60\n\n    _Kathasarit sagara_, 92\n\n    Kohl, 80\n\n    ~Konos~, 39\n\n    _Krana_, 59\n\n    Krishna, 170\n\n    ~Kronides~, 57, 58\n\n    ~Kronion~, 57\n\n    ~Kronos~, 57, 61\n\n    Kuhn, 59, 68, 69\n\n    -- differs from Mr. Max Mueller on etymology of Urvasi and Pururavas, 70\n\n    -- sees fire myths everywhere, 70\n\n    Kurnai, 34\n\n    Kwai Hemm, 53\n\n\n    Lafitau, 36, 73\n\n    Language and thought, 211\n\n    -- childhood of, 218\n\n    Liebrecht, 70, 71, 112\n\n    Lightning, 117\n\n    Loftie, Mr., 113\n\n    Long on 'Totamism,' 105\n\n    Loennrot, 160\n\n    Lucian, 41\n\n    Lyons, murder at, 191\n\n\n    M'Lennan, Mr., on the family, 245-275\n\n    Magic, 146\n\n    -- Algonquin, 99\n\n    -- in Vedas, 241\n\n    -- note of lower culture, 78\n\n    Maine, Sir Henry, on the family, 245-275\n\n    Maize, superstition about, 20\n\n    Malagasy Maerchen, 93\n\n    Malebranche, 190\n\n    Mandragora, 143-155\n\n    Mandrake, 144-152\n\n    Manabozho, 293\n\n    Mantis insect, 53, 208\n\n    Maoris, art of, 286\n\n    -- myths of, 45-50\n\n    Maerchen--\n      Algonquin, 82\n      Bornoese, 82\n      Dutch, 76\n      features of, 157, 158, 163\n      of _Nicht Nought Nothing_, 89\n      of Swan Maidens, 82\n      Russian, 93, 171\n      Scotch, 89\n      South African, 171\n      West Highland, 93\n\n    Marriage, early, 245-275\n\n    -- law of exogamy in, 24, 102\n\n    -- in connection with Totemism, 106-107\n\n    Master of Life, 105\n\n    Medea recognised as Moon, 96\n\n    -- as Lightning, 96\n\n    Melanesia, 55, 146\n\n    Melanesian myths, 56\n\n    _Melusine_, 117\n\n    -- myth of, 76\n\n    Merman, forsaken, 76\n\n    Mexico, 16\n\n    Meyer, 66\n\n    Milky Way, 122\n\n    Mimnermus, 95\n\n    Moloch, 62\n\n    Moluna, Christoval de, 105\n\n    Moly, 143-155\n\n    Mongols, divining rod among, 184\n\n    Moon and hare, 132\n\n    -- Australian myth of, 54\n\n    -- man in, 132\n\n    -- Medea thought to be, 96\n\n    -- myths, 132\n\n    'Moon-cat,' 117\n\n    Mouse and Apollo, 103-120\n\n    'Mouse of Night,' 117\n\n    Mouse tribe, 114\n\n    Mouse-Apollo, 103-120\n\n    Muir, 50\n\n    Mueller, Mr. Max, 57, 66, 67\n\n    -- on childhood of language, 74, 218\n\n    -- on etymology of Urvasi, 68, 69\n\n    -- on fetichism, 212-242\n\n    -- on Great Bear, 139, 140\n\n    -- on Hottentot myths, 197-211\n\n    -- on Hyperion, 132\n\n    -- on myth of sun-frog, 77, 78\n\n    -- on _Ote_, 105\n\n    -- on spelling of _Totem_, 105\n\n    -- version of Vedic hymn, 83\n\n    Mueller, C. O., 128\n\n    _Murri_, 127\n\n    Mysteries, 29-44\n\n    -- Dionysiac, 39\n\n    -- in Brazil, 43\n\n    -- of Bushman, 42\n\n    Myths, Accadian, 137\n\n    -- Algonquin, 99\n\n    -- Australian, 130\n\n    -- Brazilian, 131\n\n    -- Bushman, 131\n\n    -- Chinese, of mice, 112\n\n    -- diffusion of, 23, 24\n\n    -- Egyptian, of mice, 112;\n      of stars, 130\n\n    -- Eskimo, 130, 132\n\n    -- Finnish, 101\n\n    -- Indian, of serpent, 81\n\n    -- Japanese, 93\n\n    -- names of taboo on, 82\n\n    -- of animal bride, 76-80\n\n    -- of beaver (Ojibway), 79\n\n    -- of Cronus, 45-63\n\n    -- of Finland, 156-179\n\n    -- of Hottentots, 197-211\n\n    -- of Jason, 87-102\n\n    -- of Melanesia, 56\n\n    -- of Melusine, 76\n\n    -- of mice, 103-120\n\n    -- of night, 55\n\n    -- of plants, 143-155\n\n    -- of 'sun frog,' 77-80\n\n    -- of swallowing, 53, 54\n\n    -- of tabooed names, 82\n\n    -- of wind, 55\n\n    -- Peruvian, 129\n\n    -- Samoan, 97\n\n    -- Samoyed, 88\n\n    -- solar, 131-133\n\n    -- star, 121-142\n\n    -- Zulu, 84, 85, 88, 93\n\n    Mythology--\n      a 'disease of language,' 1\n      philological method of, 201-211\n      systems of interpretation of, 1-9\n      views of Grohmann, 117\n      -- of Gubernatis, 117\n\n\n    Naga (or serpent) race, 81\n\n    Names as germs of myths, 1\n\n    -- arguments against, 2, 3\n\n    -- of husbands not to be uttered by wives, 74\n\n    Naz, a fabulous country, 75\n\n    New Caledonia, 230\n\n    New Mexico, 31\n\n    New Zealand, 35, 143\n\n    _Nicht Nought Nothing_, 89\n\n    Night myth, 55\n\n\n    Oceanus, 48\n\n    Odin, 27\n\n    Odysseus, 20\n\n    'Odyssey,' 144, 147\n\n    Oedipous, 5\n\n    Ojibways, art of, 293\n\n    -- myths, 79\n\n    Orion, 121\n\n    Osiris, barrows of, 205\n\n    Osiris, 130\n\n    Ovahereroes, 20\n\n    Owl of Athens, 110\n\n    -- sacred in Samoa, 119\n\n\n    Pacarissa, Peruvian word for _Totem_, 104\n\n    Pachacamac, 105\n\n    Palaeolithic man, his art, 299\n\n    Pausanias, 33, 52, 223\n\n    Pauthier, 50\n\n    Paoli, 110\n\n    Papa, 45, 46\n\n    Peau d'Ane, 64\n\n    Persephone, 19, 65, 171\n\n    Perseus, 5\n\n    Peru, art in, 288\n\n    -- religion of, 103-107\n\n    Pezazi, 15\n\n    Philistines, 115, 116\n\n    Philology, method of, in mythology, 97, 201\n\n    Phocians, 41\n\n    Picture-writing, 292\n\n    Pindar, 95\n\n    Piper, the Pied, 114\n\n    _Planchette_, in China, 187\n\n    Plants, folklore of, 143-155\n\n    Pleiades, 23, 121\n\n    -- in Australia, 126\n\n    Popular element in myth and religion, 178, 179\n\n    -- tales (_see_ 'Maerchen')\n\n    Poseidon, 126\n\n    -- swallowing of, 51\n\n    Pottery, common features of early, 22\n\n    -- early, 289\n\n    Pragapati, 59, 134, 211\n\n    Preller, 61, 96\n\n    Psyche, 171\n\n    Puang-ku, 50\n\n    Pundjel, 73, 130\n\n    -- Australian god, 35\n\n    Pururavas, 65-67, 76\n\n    -- etymology of, disputed, 68, 69, 71\n\n\n    Qat, 55\n\n    Qing, 42\n\n\n    Ra, 113\n\n    -- rat of, 115\n\n    Rainbow, 117\n\n    Ram, in stars, 129\n\n    -- Zeus and the, 6\n\n    Rat, sacred in Egypt, 113\n\n    Red Indians, 21, 152\n\n    -- swallowing myth, 55\n\n    Religion, Aryan, 212-242\n\n    -- Greek and Egyptian, 118\n\n    -- origins of, 212-242\n\n    Rhodes, 61\n\n    ~Rhombos~, 39\n\n    Rhys, 82\n\n    Riddles, 14\n\n    Rikshas, 140\n\n    Ritual, 113\n\n    Robertson Smith on Totems, 115\n\n    Rome, sun worship in, 104\n\n    Roth differs from Mueller and Kuhn as to etymology of Urvasi, 70\n\n    Rowan, 154\n\n    Rudra, mouse sacred to, 116\n\n    Rue, 152\n\n\n    Sacrifice, human, 61\n\n    Sahagun, 16\n\n    St. Gertrude, 119\n\n    Samoa, 33\n\n    -- animal worship in, 119\n\n    Samoans, 152\n\n    Samoyeds, myths of, 88\n\n    Sampo, 169\n\n    Sanskrit, 77, 140\n\n    Saturn, 61\n\n    Savage ideas in Greece, 119\n\n    Savages, 72\n\n    -- and Aryans, 135\n\n    -- art of, 276-304\n\n    -- fancy of, creates myths, _passim_\n\n    -- their astronomy, 138\n\n    -- their customs in regard to marriage etiquette, 73, 74\n\n    Sayce, Prof., 62, 141, 151\n\n    -- on myth of mice, 112\n\n    -- on Totemism in Egypt, 118\n\n    Scandinavia, gods of, 27\n\n    Scarabs, 113\n\n    Schliemann, 288\n\n    Schrader, 4\n\n    Schwartz, 61, 96\n\n    -- sees storm myths everywhere, 71\n\n    Seb, 60\n\n    Semitic peoples, Totemism of, 115\n\n    -- sacrifice, 61\n\n    Sennacherib, 112\n\n    Serpent, 117\n\n    -- myth of, 81\n\n    -- dance, 21\n\n    Servius, 37\n\n    Sethos, 111, 112\n\n    Shaman, 136\n\n    Siati, the Samoan Jason, 97\n\n    Sickle of Cronus, 61\n\n    ~Sminthios, Smintheus~, 103-120\n\n    ~Sminthos~, 108\n\n    Snakes as ancestors, 227\n\n    Sneezing, superstition of, 14\n\n    Sparta, 33\n\n    Spencer, Herbert, 125, 199\n\n    Spiritualism, 36\n\n    Socrates, 46\n\n    Solar myth (_see_ 'Sun')\n\n    Sophocles, 61\n\n    Sorcerers, 130\n\n    Star myths, 121-142\n\n    Stone Age, implements of, 12\n\n    -- fetich, 224\n\n    -- knives of, 226\n\n    -- weapons, 125\n\n    Strabo, 108-113\n\n    Sun adored by Incas and Aurelii, 104\n\n    -- as a beast, 133\n\n    -- frog, 64-86\n\n    -- god (Ra as), 113\n\n    -- Medea and Jason explained as sun myth, 87-102\n\n    -- myth in New Zealand, 133\n\n    -- America, 133\n\n    -- myth of, 131-133\n\n    -- myths of frog explained as sun myth, 77\n\n    -- Ra and Rudra as, 113-116\n\n    -- worshipped in Peru and Rome, 104\n\n    _Svastika_, 288, 289\n\n    Swallowing myths, Indian, Basuto, Jewish, Zulu, Eskimo, 55\n\n    -- of Australians, 54\n\n    -- of Bushmen, 53\n\n    -- of Kaffirs, 54\n\n    Swan, Zeus as a, 126\n\n\n    Tabooed meats in Israel, 115\n\n    Taboo, 85\n\n    -- on food of dead, 171\n\n    -- on iron, 64\n\n    Taboos, 73, 75\n\n    -- on food, 113, 119\n\n    Tale, far-travelled, 87-102\n\n    'Tales of West Highlands,' 93\n\n    Tales, Popular (_see_ 'Maerchen')\n\n    Taylor, Mr. Isaac, 62, 81\n\n    Temples, Egyptian, 112\n\n    -- Greek, 111\n\n    -- Peruvian, 105\n\n    Thamyris, 97\n\n    Theal, 38\n\n    Theocritus, 29\n\n    -- on Adonis' feast, 105\n\n    Thunder-bird, 117\n\n    Tiele, 3, 62\n\n    Toots, Mr., quoted, 65\n\n    Tortures inflicted on boys, 33\n\n    _Totam_, spelling of _Totem_ in 1792, 105\n\n    _Totem_, or _Ote_, or _Otem_, 105\n\n    -- in Egypt, 118\n\n    -- in Greece (?), 109, 110\n\n    -- in Israel, 115\n\n    -- in Peru, 105\n\n    Totemism, 227, 278, 279\n\n    -- explained, 106, 107, 245-275\n\n    -- in Egypt, 107\n\n    -- in Greece, 107\n\n    -- in relation to the family, 245-275\n\n    -- of Semitic people, 115\n\n    Totem not to be eaten, 113\n\n    Troad, mice myths connected with, 103-120\n\n    Tsui Goam, 149, 197-211\n\n    Tumatuenga, 45 _et seq._\n\n    Tuoni, Hades of Finns, 171\n\n    Turndun (_see_ 'Bull-roarer')\n\n    Turner, his 'Samoa,' 119\n\n    Turtle, Totems of Iroquois, 110\n\n    Tutenganahau, 45\n\n    Tylor, 38, 50, 127\n\n    -- on star myths, 142\n\n\n    Uranus, 48, 61\n\n    Urvasi, 65, 66, 67, 77\n\n    -- etymology of, disputed, 68-71, 72\n\n\n    Vannus Iacchi, 36, 37\n\n    Veda, gods of, 212-242\n\n    -- Rig, 65, 66\n\n    Vedas, 213, 216, 217, 234, 241\n\n    Vishnu Purana, 67\n\n    Volkslieder, 157, 159\n\n\n    Waeinaemoeinen (_see_ 'Kalevala')\n\n    Waeinaemoeinen, 100\n\n    Wallace, Alfred, 43, 44\n\n    Water tabooed to frog and beaver brides, 77-80\n\n    Welsh, 74\n\n    -- fairy, 82\n\n    'West Highlands, Tales of,' 93\n\n    Wind, charms to raise, 35\n\n    -- god of New Zealand, 45\n\n    -- myth, 55\n\n    Wives not to be seen, 72, 73\n\n    -- not to use husband's name, 74\n\n    Wolf and Kid, story of, 54\n\n    -- Totem of Iroquois, 110\n\n    Women, customs of, 71-75\n\n\n    Yorubas, 73\n\n\n    Zend Avesta, 117\n\n    Zeus, 6, 47\n\n    -- and the ram, 6\n\n    -- as a beast, 134\n\n    -- as medicine man, 200\n\n    -- loves one of Pleiades, 126\n\n    -- shares accomplishments of savage medicine men, 83\n\n    -- swallowing myth of, 53\n\n    Zoolatry, 226\n\n    Zulu, myth of, 84\n\n    Zulus, 117\n\n    Zuni, 37\n\n\n    ABERDEEN UNIVERSITY PRESS.\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Note\n\nIllustration captions in {curly brackets} have been added by the\ntranscriber for the convenience of the reader.\n\nArchaic spelling is preserved as printed, as is variable spelling and\ninconsistent hyphenation and accent usage in quoted material. Minor\npunctuation errors and inconsistent hyphenation and accent usage in\nthe remainder of the text have been repaired.\n\nPage 36 has a reference to 'physical researchers' in relation to\nspiritualism. This may be an error for 'psychical researchers', but\nas it is impossible to be certain, it is preserved as printed.\n\nThe following typographic errors have been repaired:\n\n    Page 38--slas amended to slats--\"It was nearly hidden by\n    symbolic slats ...\"\n\n    Page 54, footnote 43--Smith amended to Smyth--\"Brough\n    Smyth, i. 432-433.\"\n\n    Page 57--sun amended to son--\"Zeus was called by the Greeks\n    the son of Time ...\"\n\n    Page 58--Uranos amended to Uranus--\"... were adequately\n    expressed by the story of Uranus maimed by Kronos, ...\"\n\n    Page 96--Appollonius amended to Apollonius--\"This is the view\n    of the Scholiast on Apollonius Rhodius ...\"\n\n    Page 130--zeus amended to Zeus--\"... a kind of Zeus, or\n    rather a sort of Prometheus ...\"\n\n    Page 284--he amended to we--\"Later, we will return to the\n    cave-paintings ...\"\n\n    Page 305--entry for Bernier, originally following the entry\n    for Ballads, moved to its correct place in the index.\n\n    Page 306--Chepparas amended to Cheparas--\"Cheparas, 34\"\n\n    Page 309--196 amended to 197--\"Myths, of Hottentots, 197-211\"\n\n    Page 310--~rhombos~ amended to ~Rhombos~--\"~Rhombos~, 39\"","title":"Custom and Myth: New Edition","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":84088}